One Night to Speed Up Truth
by Dizzy Ink
Summary: This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the Bones soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.
1. Chapter 1: Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

***Author's Note:** This is my first _Bones_ fic. I intend on making this a multi-chapter story, but that is dependent on you, the reader. Please tell me if you would like to read more as your reviews are the muse that keeps the plot alive.

**Chapter 1: Heartbeats**

(Song featured in S4:E16 Salt in the Wounds)

One night to be confused

One night to speed up truth

We had a promise made

Four hands and then away

Both under influence

We had divine scent

To know what to say

Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above

To lean on

Wouldn't be good enough

For me, no

One night of magic rush

The start a simple touch

One night to push and scream

And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes

The colors red and blue

We had a promise made

We were in love

To call for hands of above

To lean on

Wouldn't be good enough

For me, no

To call for hands of above

To lean on

Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil

And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth

Sharing different heartbeats

In one night

To call for hands of above

To lean on

Wouldn't be good enough

For me, no

To call for hands of above

To lean on

Wouldn't be good enough

For me, no

***~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~***

"You drunk?" She started the conversation with a known variable. Alone plus alcohol must equal drunk, especially when the empty glasses in front of him matched those that were filled.

"Relatively. Relatively meaning I'm drunker than usual. You know, I am not a drunk." She bristled at his comment, his accusing tone that suggested that she was accusing him. She knew he wasn't a drunk. Why would he assume that she would purposely try to hurt him?

"You sound….something…" She trailed off, not because she didn't know what was bothering him, but because she didn't know how to comfort him. "Hannah called me."

"Just….I really…I don't wanna talk about that…k? I'm just…I'm over it, I'm done, k?" She wanted to go on, to find the cause. Her mind flashed to the conversation she had mere moments before. Hannah calling, crying, her voice breaking from a hiccupping sob. Brennan had been working late, which she had been doing more than ever since her tearful confession to Booth a few weeks earlier. She had convinced herself that it was due to the ever expanding caseload that had piled up since she had left for Maluku, but if she were honest with herself, which she rarely was, she would admit it was her vigorous attempt at forgetting and moving past the burning embarrassment that her confession and subsequent rejection had left. As she listened to Hannah recount Booth's ill-fated proposal, Brennan realized she was capable of being petty and small. She couldn't find it in her to console the weeping journalist.

"So, what happens next?" She asked, a slight tinge of hope creeping into her voice. It seemed too simple, but logically there was nothing between them now. Still, she knew that he was in pain, and despite her desire to revisit the topic of "them" as he was technically no longer engaged, for lack of a better word, she couldn't bring herself to say it. She knew it wouldn't be right.

"What happens next?" His voice was incredulous, as if he couldn't believe she had the audacity to make such a ludicrous inquiry. Shame rolled through her body like a tidal wave and she knew she had over-stepped the bounds of what was polite, even between close friends and almost-but-never-lovers. She had crossed a line, but not the one she had worried so much about in the past. His eyes watered and she could tell he was willing himself not to let their tears come. If they came, the dam would break and neither of them would know how to survive the deluge. He was too proud, and she didn't want to see him lose that pride. Not now, not like this. He began again, "What….you like evidence, right Bones? Well here's the evidence…the evidence is that there is something wrong here. Now I….I found love with a woman….I had a kid…she doesn't want to marry me. Well…and then the next woman, well she's…" Brennan knew where this was going.

"Me." Her rejection of him left a gaping, festering wound on him that refused to heal. Maybe it was due to the fact that she insisted that they remain friends, remain close. She knew it had been selfish, a catch 22, look but don't touch in the guise of professionalism. In eternalist time theory, Booth was always reliving her refusal of him, just as she was reliving his dismissal of her confession. Both doomed to forever repeat the pain of the past, with no way of knowing if the future held the answer. All time—past, present, future—existing at once, ache upon ache. She believed in science, and as guilt and pain washed over her again, she knew that some part of her, somewhere, was reliving that night in the rain where her realization of love was met with a piteous "no".

"Yeah, and now, I mean…" He continued, "what is it with women who just don't want what I'm offering here?"

"Booth." Couldn't he see? Couldn't he know that she was ready to take his offer, to accept him, for them to find comfort in one another, finally. She couldn't stand the thought of him thinking he was deficient in some way, not worthy of the love he so desperately wanted and deserved. She felt herself begin, the words forming and dying on her lips as he started again.

"No, just…you know what?...Drink….Drink…" He grabbed up one of the brimming shots of tequila that sat in front of him and motioned for her to do the same, the sharp clink of the shot glasses echoing between them. She tentatively brought the strong liquor to her lips, blinking as the fumes met her eyes, a sipped gently.

"I'm just really, really…" He stumbled over his words then gave up. She watched uneasily as he downed the shot in milliseconds. He was already drunk, and well on his way to being incoherently so. "I'm just mad. I'm just really mad at all of you. Alright? I'm just mad. Ok….so you wanna know how this is gonna work? K, this is how this is gonna work…Me and you are partners, that's what we do, we're partners. Alright? And I love that, I think that's great, and we're good people who catch bad people right?...And we argue, we go back and forth, we're partners….and sometimes after we solve a case we come here and we celebrate, that's what we do, we celebrate. So, as far as I can see that is what happens next. Are you ok with that?"

She wasn't ok with it, not in the slightest. She didn't like the desperate tremor in his voice, as if he was stuffing himself into a costume, one meant to disguise his anger with forced enthusiasm for their profession, for their amicable collegiate relationship. His words were being pushed out with a strained positivity that sounded utterly false to her ears. Yet, she couldn't speak, couldn't find the magic words to make things right. Even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to speak them. The tense pause was broken when he began again, his demeanor a manic adaptation of faux optimism.

"Great, because if you are I'll tell you what, you stay here and you have a drink with me. Alright maybe we have a little small talk, chit-chat. And if you're not, well….you can leave….there's the door, and tomorrow I'll find you a new FBI guy." His words stung more fiercely than the liquor. A new FBI guy? A new partner? He couldn't be serious, but something in the set of his shoulders, the hunch of his back told her that he was.

"Those are my only choices?"

"Yeah, those are your only choices," even though his voice waivered as he said it, she knew he was adamant about his ultimatum. She felt powerless and when faced with losing him completely or allowing him to deny his emotions, she chose the latter. She chose it for him, to keep him with her, and because she knew it was how she would have handled the situation. Run from the emotions, so fast and so hard that they will never catch you, so you never have to feel. She knew that course all to well and had taken comfort in it many times before.

"Then I'll have a drink." She said resolutely, then downed the remaining tequila in front of her and immediately motioned to the bartender for another. She noticed in the peripheral that Booth had mimicked her motion, and chose to take solace in their synchronicity rather than the implication of the act itself.

***~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~***

The tiny shot glasses clinked again. She couldn't remember if this was her eighth or tenth shot of bad tequila and she had no clue as to how many he had partaken in, but at that moment it didn't matter; he was smiling. She loved his smile, the way his eyes would crinkle in the corners.

"Alright, Alright, Alright…" he laughed, "You remember the time that gangbanger was running away from me, ya know, when we were looking into that body found in the L Street dumpster."

"Oh yes, Mr. El Bravo. His tattoos were very…very..." She couldn't find the word and he started to laugh harder as she drew a blank.

"What do ya got, Bones? Intricate? Variant?" He was shaking his head and lifting another tumbler of scotch to his lips.

"No…" The look of concentration suddenly vanished and her face lit up with her own knowing smile. "Funny."

"Funny? Really, your just gonna say 'funny'? You never cease to amaze me," His smile was now reaching his eyes, exactly where she wanted it to be. He seemed settled, he seemed himself. "Anyway, he just kept running….and I'm like 'Stop, you asshat!'"

"You didn't say 'asshat'." She stated bluntly.

"Sure I did!" His face took on a humorous indignation.

"I was there, Booth, and that is factually incorrect."

"Fine. I didn't say 'asshat', but I was thinking it…" He chuckled as he took another swig of scotch. "So, there I am chasing him, not saying 'asshat' even though I was thinking it, and the idiot goes to jump over the…the…fuck, what is it called?"

"Who's drawing a blank now!" She leaned forward and jabbed her finger into his chest.

"I'll get it, I'll get it…" his brow shot up as the word seemed to magically appear from the ether. "Chain link! That's it….Chain link!"

"Bravo." Brennan rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm Booth. The guy I was chasing was Bravo." He grinned.

"No, I meant that to be a sarcastic exclamatory utterance to denote…" She started, confused indignation written on her face.

"I know, Bones, I know. It was a joke. A joke. Anyway, so up he goes over this fence and the damn thing is all old and rusted. When he gets to the top and starts to go over…Crunch! The thing falls apart and there he is, dangling from the mess by the huge boxers that were hanging halfway out of his pants. Priceless!" Another swig of scotch as if to put emphasis on the end of his story.

"That one deserved an encore…" She said slyly, sidling next to him as if she were a fourth grader telling a dirty joke.

"What do you mean?" He looked confused.

"An encore, you know. Like after an opera, when they shout "Encore"? It's funny because his name is 'Bravo'." She rambled on, becoming even more frustrated by the look of confusion that was still pasted to Booth's booze bleary face. "It was a highly effective joke! You're just too intoxicated to appreciate it!" She huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

"Maybe you're too wasted to tell it right?" She knew that look. He was playing dumb, teasing her.

"Agent Booth, you are not as charming as you think…"

"Yes I am." He smiled and winked, satisfied that he had irritated her enough. He picked up his tumbler and frowned. It was empty. "I need another drink. Barkeep! Scotch!"

"Alright you two, you've been her for almost three hours and we're trying to close up shop." The bartender motioned to the restaurant around them. He was right. Chairs were up on tables, a busboy was sweeping up, they were the only ones there. "Plus, if I give either of you anymore I'm gonna be libel for negligent homicide when you both get alcohol poisoning.

"Ok, ok, Lou! We got it." Booth started to climb off of the stool and immediately braced himself on the bar. "Whoa…"

"Are you alright?" Brennan slid off her stool and realized that she was not much better off. "I seem to be very inebri..inerbri..inieb..." She gave up. "Drunk. I'm drunk, too."

"I already called you guys a cab. Just get home safe and worry about the tab tomorrow." Lou said as he cleared their glasses.

"Ya sure, Lou? 'Cause I…can…ya know, pay now. I'm good for it." Booth was desperately searching all but his back pocket for his wallet.

"I know you two are. Hell, she writes books right? You're good for it…" Lou chuckled. "…but don't worry about it now. You'll be back. Plus, I think your cabs here."

"He's right, Booth. We will most likely be back here in a matter of days and the cab is here." Brennan was clinging to logic and vocabulary, just as she was clinging to one of the vacated stools.

"Ok, thanks, Lou. We'll uh…we'll see ya." He grabbed Brennan around the shoulders, supporting her as much as she was supporting him. "Come on, Bones. Let's take this party back to my place."

"Be careful, you two. Don't do anything I would!"

"But if you would do it, wouldn't it stand to reason that you condone it?" Brennan tried to speak from over her shoulder.

"Joke, again. Come on, Bones." Booth pulled her through the Founding Father's door, relieved to see the cab. They fell into the it, a giggling lump of Booth and Brennan. He gave the cabby his address and a twenty. "I got some beers back at my place."

"Then to your place we go!" She smiled, rolled down the window, and relished the feel of the cool air rushing against her face as the cab pulled away from the curb.

***~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~***

The door to Booth's apartment flew open and they came crashing through, a pile of limbs and grins. Using the doorknob to pull herself up, Brennan stopped to take in the view of Booth splayed out on his back in the doorway, laughing so hard that tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. Even though her mind was a rush of incoherent thoughts and emotions, one thing was clear, she loved him. She loved his ability to make the world seem right, taking whatever problem plagued her and turning it into an inconsequential mound of dust. In that moment there was nowhere she wished to be other than there, with him.

Booth's uncontrollable laughter started to die down and a soft sigh left him. He was lying there looking at the ceiling feeling his body calm, one arm stretched over his head, the other lying on his chest, over his heart, as if he was making sure it was still there, still beating. The silence between the two only lasted a few seconds, but gave the illusion of lasting for an eternity.

"Today was hard." He said quietly, still fixating on some unknown point above him.

"Yeah…" She said lightly, pushing the door closed with a soft click. Her body didn't seem to respond to the commands her brain was sending, so she just rested her forehead against the polished wood of the doorframe, clinging hard to the doorknob to steady herself.

"I promised you a beer," Booth said suddenly as he struggled to his feet and began making a swerving path to the refrigerator.

"Booth…" Brennan started, not sure if she was ready to change the subject. She didn't want him to run from the conversation that needed to be had.

"No, no, no…" Was he saying no to the conversation or her possible refusal of another drink? "Do you want a Fat Tire or a Stone IPA?"

"I…I want…" She began, not sure where she was going with her words, not sure what she wanted. She decided on the path of least resistance. "A Fat Tire, please."

"Good, cause I want the Stone." He smiled as he brought out the two colorful bottles and removed the tops with the bottle opener that was attached to the fridge. "IPA's have a higher alcohol content. Did you know that? About 1 to 4% higher than a regular ale."

"Is that a good thing?" Brennan asked as she slowly and deliberately sat down on the couch. Once leaning against the arm of the couch and sufficiently comfortable, she reached up and took the beer from him, her warm fingers making contact with his colder ones in the process.

"It is tonight." He said with a quiet chuckle. He flopped down next to her on the couch, took a long pull from his bottle, and then leaned back, staring again at the ceiling.

"What is so captivating up there?" Brennan asked as she repositioned herself so they shared the same view of the off-white plaster ceiling. "It looks pretty barren to me."

"Its…blank." She turned to look at him. He had a strained smile pulling at the corner of his lips, as if he were trying to happily explain something very painful. "It is old, and little off color, but for the most part, its clean…blank. I wish sometimes that I could be that way. Wipe everything away and start new."

"Not everything. What about Parker?" Brennan rested her head against his shoulder, her gaze still raised upward.

"Yeah, not everything. I would never give up Parker for anything." He sighed, "Or you. I wouldn't want to give up you."

"Me? Why not?" She swallowed hard, but didn't take her head from his shoulder. Instead she glanced at her lap. She hadn't even noticed that his hand was on her bare knee. "I…caused you a great deal of pain. Wouldn't you want to forget that?"

"No." He shook his head adamantly. "Sure…I wish…I wish certain things had gone differently…and maybe I wish I could go back and change that." He took another long drink from his beer and she couldn't help watching as his head tipped back, his adam's apple moving and he swallowed the cold liquid.

"So you would want to change events…but not us?" She moved her hand on top of his, the one that was now lightly brushing her knee cap is a soft, rhythmic motion.

"I have always wanted to change 'us'…since the day we met." He laced his fingers with hers, bringing the back of her had to brush against his stubbly cheek. "But I wouldn't want to actually change 'us'. Ya know what I mean, Bones?"

"Yes, I know." He wasn't looking at her, but he was bringing their entwined hands to his lips. He placed soft kisses to the crevices where their fingers seemed to melt into one another. "I…have wished…I wished the same. The same thing…as you."

"You have?" His head swung to face hers, his bleary eyes making contact with her own unfocused pupils.

"All the time." She whispered, unable to look away from him. "I have often thought of how beneficial, albeit impossible, it would be to change certain moments of our partnership so that they reconfigured into a more positive and less damaging outcome so that…" She was rambling again, finding the logical way of explaining something she didn't understand, the metaphorical human heart.

"Stop." His command was soft, gentle. She watched as his eyes traveled down her face to her lips and his tongue peeked out to wet his own. "Stop, making this so…so fucking logical, Bones. Logic can't explain everything."

"Logic must be the ultimate result of any inquiry if it is to be…" She began, but was cut off when he leaned forward and let his lips lightly rest against hers. She was shocked, confused. Any vestiges of logic that remained in the forefront of her mind quickly dissipated as he moved his freehand to the back of her head. She could taste the sweet and bitter taste of tequila and beer on his tongue as it found its way past her lips, and lightly started running itself against her own. Vaguely she knew that she should push him away, this wasn't the right time.

"Booth…" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Fuck logic, Bones. Don't stop me unless you mean it, unless you don't want this as much as…" a rush of air passed through his lips. He pulled her forehead to his, resting it there. She watched as his eyes squeezed shut, his corrugator muscles furrowed. This was hard for him, she realized. "Stop me if you don't want this as much as I do. As I always have."

There was a long pause where his eyes remained shut, hers open, his hand on the back of her neck, hers on his chest. She couldn't formulate the thoughts, she didn't have the ability to think, and for once, she was happy for it. She didn't want to logic her way out of this, like she did so many times in the past. Wasn't what that what they were just talking about, changing the past? Or was it really about altering the future? It didn't matter anymore as she leaned forward, letting their liquored breaths mingle between them. Her hands slid up his chest, one making its way to the back of his head, the other to the side of his face. He leaned his cheek into her palm, relishing the feel of her soft, slight hands touching him with such care.

"I…I want this to." She said quietly. Then his mouth was on hers again. A desperate frenzy to feel, to taste. He leaned forward, pushing her back onto the couch, his hands running through her hair as he ravaged her mouth. She felt her subconscious take over, all senses leaving her except those most basic, most primal. His lips trailed down her neck, moved down the column of her throat with soft, reverent kisses. Her fingers flew to the buttons of his black dress shirt, but her fingers wouldn't comply. Her mind hazy, she couldn't seem to get her usually agile tips to push the offending buttons through the tiny holes. She let out a groan of frustration, leaning her head back on the couch arm in defeat, allowing him to gain better access to her chest. His lips now played at the tops of her breasts and she could feel a hot wave of desire flow through her. He was so close, so warm, so heavy, so right.

The pressure of his body lessened and she opened her eyes in confusion. He was now kneeling over her, between her open legs. She hadn't even realized that her thighs were now cradling his hips, her leg wrapped around him, urging him toward her hot center. She could feel him their pushing against her most sensitive spot, his hardness pressing into her and evident even through the layers of material. She looked at him with confusion. Why had he pulled away, was he uncertain? She had just let go of logic, was attempting to live in the moment, and her mind was not ready to posit likely scenarios.

She was about to voice her concern when he quickly grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and throwing it onto the recliner. Her mouth formed a soft "O" as she gazed at his now bare chest. Her had reached up to brush against his firm pectoral, sweeping down to lightly skim his nipple. She was pleased to here the quick hiss of his breath as her fingers danced and then settled against his ribs. He slowly, gently grabbed her hand and removed it from his hot skin.

"Too much. You're…you're just…" His fingers traced down her jaw, her throat, and to the tops of her breasts, which were just barely visible above the collar of her shirt. "God, Bones, you're just…everything."

She was about to reply when his hands grasped either side of her light blue dress shirt and pulled it apart, the buttons pinging to the ground and the couch. She didn't have time to be shocked as his head dipped and he began to devour her cloth-encased breasts. She moaned loudly as he pulled the cup of her bra down and sucked a soft pink nipple into his mouth. Her hips shot up and ground against his, their cores meeting in a flash of white-hot pleasure.

"Oh…please…oh please, Booth." She held his head to her breast and wound her legs securely around her hips, crushing him to her with the force and intent of making them one.

"God damn, Bones, you're fucking perfect." His heads were clumsily moving to the button and zipper of her pants. It took a few tries, and plenty of frustrated grunts before he was able to open them. She lifted her hips as he slid her trousers from her legs. She took the time to grab at his belt, undoing it but not bothering to remove it. She pushed the black dress pants down his thighs with her nimble feet, allowing the her high arches and toes to feel what her hands could not reach, the firm corded muscles and stiff bones of his legs. He moaned as she brought her legs back up to wrap around his hips. He pressed hard into her then, his boxer clad erection digging into her warm, damp, panty-covered core.

"You still have to much on," he mumbled into her neck as he rotated his hips, grinding his desire into her. His hands were playing with the edge of her silky panties. His fingertips running along her pubic bone, enjoying the feeling of her stomach muscles contracting and releasing with desire. He hooked his fingers into the delicate material and slowly slid down her body, pushing them down from her thighs as he trailed kisses down her legs, to the back of her knees, along her calves, until he slipped the damp garment from her completely. Making his way back up her body, he smiled and dropped the scrap of cloth to the floor. She couldn't help but smile and let out a soft, throaty laugh.

He pulled himself up to her again, letting one arm rest above her, allowing him to play softly with her hair as he nuzzled her neck. The other lightly gripped her hip, pulling it closer to his own.

"Booth…oh God…" She moaned as she felt him grind into her again. She could feel him smiling against her neck.

"What do you want, Baby? Tell me what you want…and I'll give it to you." His voice was low, the deep rumble tickling her ear and sending a wave of pleasurable shivers down her spine. His fingers left her hip and trailed their way into the soft curls between her thighs. His long index finger played along her wet slit, running back and forth, teasing her.

"I…want…" She could barely wrap her lips around the right words, barely make the request.

"Want what, Baby? Say it…" He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked into her eyes and she noted the dark, almost onyx-like quality they had adopted. A whimper rose from somewhere deep in her throat, his eyes were telling her what he wanted, but he wanted her to want it too.

"I want…you, Booth." She cried as she felt his finger twirl in a light circle around her clit. "I want you inside me…please" The word was a whisper.

"But I am inside you," He whispered in her ear and she felt now that his finger was sliding slowly into her wet sheath. She nearly screamed in her frustration, but instead she arched into his hand, grinding herself against his firm fingers.

"I want all of you, Booth." This time she grabbed his face and made him look directly at her. "I want all of you. I want…I want everything."

She wasn't even sure what she meant, but her words were enough for him remove his fingers from her and wrap his arms fully around her body. He crushed his lips to hers with a force that stole her breath away.

She pushed his boxers down his thighs, just past his knees, down far enough to free his erection from the confines of fabric. She felt him shift his hips to line up with her warm entrance. She shuddered at the feel of his thick head pressing against her welcoming opening. He was still kissing her as he slid slowly home, her back arching his cock made its way deeper into her. She felt full, warm, and insanely complete. She felt him pull back, then slam forward, the first of many deep thrusts.

"Oh god, Bones….Bones…" His eyes were squeezed shut as he ground his cock deeper into her warm core. "Fuck…you feel amazing. You feel…"

"Perfect…" she moaned as he thrust into her again. His eyes found hers again as he began to speed up his thrusts. She could feel him reaching the very end of her with the very beginning of him. His tip nearly sliding out with every thrust, them surging forward so deep that she could feel him brush against her cervix. It was too much; his heat, his heaviness, his hands on her body, his lips on her breasts. She could feel herself start to quiver, her toes start to curl.

"Booth, I'm…I'm so…" She sighed and tightened her thigh's hold on his hips, driving him even deeper into her.

"Come on, Baby….I can feel it, feel you," He hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm so close. I can feel it…I want to feel you come for me, Bones. I want too feel you come."

His words echoed in her ears and she let herself go, wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted, what she wanted. She felt the tight pressure low in her belly start to bloom as her orgasm began to wash over her. "Booth! Oh, God yes!"

"Bones…" he growled into her ear and she felt his thrusts become hard, untimed, and erratic. She felt him harden, lengthen inside her as her muscles gripped and milked his cock. He was almost there.

"Come for me, Booth. " She whispered lightly into his ear before grasping the lobe in her teeth. "I want you to come, like you made me come."

His back suddenly arched, his arms still wrapped tightly around her, crushing her body up against his. His lips sucked hard at her collarbone, and she knew there would be a mark, a reminder. He emptied himself then, filling her completely in a warm rush and she felt herself tighten and squirm around him again, her second orgasm washing over her and milking him of everything that he had left.

His hips moved slowly, riding out the last vestiges of pleasure. He gently laid her back on the couch and allowed himself to collapse on top of her, his panting breaths warm on her sweat slicked skin. They both lay there, too exhausted to move, him still buried deep inside her, but softening as their breaths returned to normal.

There were no words, just the soft sound of Brennan gently caressing Booths back and neck as he nuzzled closer into her neck. He was heavy, but the weight of him was comforting and felt right. She felt the lids of her eyes grow heavy and she could already tell from his breathing that Booth was asleep. She let her eyes fall shut. Maybe it was from the physical exertion, maybe it was from the alcohol, but she just couldn't stay awake, and followed Booth into sleep.

***~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~***

**Author: **There is more to come…confusion, angst, and misunderstandings. Do you want to read it? Please review so that I know if I should continue.


	2. Chapter 2: Soft Shock by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note:** I don't think many of you are going to be happy with this chapter, but please review! Tell me if you want more!

**Chapter 2: Soft Shock**

(Song featured in S6:E21 The Signs in the Silence)

Unknown, talk to unknown

Ever, lasts forever

Well it's a shock, shock to your soft side

Summer moon

Catch your shut eyes in your room

In my room

In your room

In my room

Louder, lips speak louder

Better, back together

Still it's a shock, shock to your soft side

Summer moon

Catch your shut eyes in my room

In your room

In my room

In your room

Whats the time

Whats the day

Go and leave me

Whats the time

Whats the place

Go and leave me

Out,

Leave me out

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

A cantaloupe cut in half with a meat cleaver. An egg being broken on the edge of a bowl. Or maybe, a watermelon being smashed by a very large, very heavy sledgehammer. All were options to be considered, but the long and short of it was her head was aching with vengeance. She chanced at opening her eyes, and blinked away the early morning light. She shifted lightly, highly aware of the uncomfortable bulging cushions under her back. This proved to be more difficult than she had expected, as something hard and warm was pushing her back down. A light groan broke through the morning air and she glanced in the direction from which it came. Booth lay wedged on his side between her body and the back of the couch, more or less naked.

The night came rushing back to her. The bad tequila, Booth's avoidance of any topic regarding his proposal, the shift from tense to light as they quickly picked up their usual banter, more bad tequila. The cab ride back to Booth's apartment for beers, crashing through the door. She felt fear rise up in her chest. They had slept together the night Booth's proposal to Hannah was rejected. What had Angela once called situations like this? A rebind? Rebound, it was a rebound.

'Oh, god.' She thought as she slowly started to wiggle her way out from under Booth's dead weight. 'A rebound. That's what this was.' She slid to the floor, but froze when she heard him shift and groan again. She couldn't speak to him, not now, not while sitting on his floor, bare-assed with her shirt ripped open and bra askew.

Waiting for him to settle back into sleep she rose up on unsteady legs and began looking for her missing clothes. She found her slacks crumpled up at the end of the couch. She pulled them on quietly, brushing tiny pieces of lint from them as she did so. She glanced at Booth. He was dead to the world, metaphorically speaking, and even though her heart was pounding, she couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her as she took him in. 'He is very good-looking' she thought to herself as she took in his chest, hips and well-muscled thighs. She felt a familiar shiver echo through her body, only to be washed away by the throb behind her temples. 'I can't leave him like this.'

Very slowly she started to pull his boxers back up his legs, followed by his trousers. Her lips pursed in concentration. She used to play Operation with Russ when they were younger. She was very good and hardly ever touched the metal sides with the tweezers, but that never kept her from feeling nervous, knowing that one small mistake would set that shrill buzzer off. She felt that nervousness now, trying not to wake him as she dressed him.

She moved to zip up his pants when he shifted again. Her hands stilled and she waited.

"Mmm…Bones…" He mumbled and shifted again. His eyes never opened, and she knew he wasn't really talking to her. She let out a deep breath she hadn't known she had been holding and then stepped away, more than happy to leave him unbuttoned.

She glanced at herself in the hallway mirror. Her shirt was ruined and there was no way she would go out into the world looking as she did. She quickly took the shirt off and stuffed it into her purse. 'I also can't go out there topless.' She noticed Booth's shirt lying in a pile in the seat of the recliner where he had thrown it the night before. She quickly pulled it over her head. It was far too big for her, but after knotting it in the front and rolling up the sleeves she found it passable.

'I need to get out of here. I need to think.' There was a small coffee shop down the street that she and Booth would occasionally go to. She could go there and begin to sort everything out. 'Good thing it's Saturday.'

She let herself glance on last time and Booth's sleeping, shirtless form on the couch. She allowed herself to smile, as the fear and panic began to subside. She had wanted this, and so had he. Still, she had to get out, even if it was only for a few hours. 'I'll be back,' She thought, allowing herself kiss him softly, imperceptibly on the forehead. She smoothed her hair, grabbed her purse, and quietly left through the front door, leaving Booth to sleep it off.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

"Good God, you feel amazing, Bones." She was under him, writhing and wriggling against him. His hands were buried in her hair as he pulled her head back to allow himself better access to her soft, slender neck. "So good…"

Suddenly a shrill ringing interrupted what was about to be the best fucking fantasy he ever had. He groped around for his cellphone, knowing that it was his alarm that was ripping him from heaven. 'Damn it,' he thought as he plunged his hand between the couch cushions where he could here the persistent, but muffled sound of his alarm. He could already feel the dull ache starting behind his eyes, spreading up to his temples. Rolling onto his back, he forced his eyes open; watching as the ceiling above him spun, dimmed, and then lightened again. 'Holy shit,' He cringed as the pain in his head bee lined to his abdomen, causing a wave of nausea to roll through him. He tasted stale booze, sleep and something else in his dry mouth.

"What the hell happened last night?" He asked aloud to no one in particular, immediately regretting the decision as pain ripped through his frontal lobes. He sat up slowly, but not slowly enough to avoid the sick spinning feeling from washing through him. He let out a deep breath, rubbed his eyes forcefully, and then opened them again. The night had started…where? He looked around him and noticed his nice suit jacket bunched up on the recliner.

'Hannah…' he realized. A new wave of pain rushed over him, only this time it had nothing to do with a hangover. She had said 'no'. A new surge of anger rushed through him as he punched the arm of the couch as hard as he possibly could. He leaned forward, allowing his head to rest in his hands. She had said 'no' and he had gone to the Founding Fathers and drank himself into a stupor. Bones had come. 'Did I tell her to leave?'

'No,' he thought as he rubbed the back of his neck, 'She stayed with me. We must have really tied one on.'

He gave himself a moment to look down at himself. He had passed out on his couch, apparently after doing a half-ass job of stripping. He sighed at shook his head in disgust. 'Your girlfriend rejects your proposal, your best friend comes out drinking with you to make you feel better, and you end up whacking off to her in your pathetic drunken state. Way to go, Seeley. No wonder Hannah, doesn't want you, you might as well have cheated on her.'

His lack of control sickened him. Still, he may have been sickened, but he wasn't exactly surprised. It wasn't the first time he had fantasized about Bones, but still, it had never felt so real. Sighing, he pushed himself off of the couch and walked to the kitchen. Downing a couple glasses of water, he made his way to the shower knowing that he needed to wash the smell of liquor from his body.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan had been sitting at the window seat of Muddy Waters Coffee Shop, sipping on the same cup of coffee for nearly an hour. It had long since become cold, but it hadn't occurred to her to get a fresh cup. Her headache was still making itself known, but had mellowed into a dull throb that allowed her enough comfort to drift into deep thought.

She bounced between emotions: fear, contentment, uncertainty, happiness. She was a ball in a roulette wheel of human emotion, an area she rarely attempted to lay bets in. Still, in that hour she had managed to make a mental list of pros and cons. Pro: She had wanted this. Con: Their act, while highly pleasurable, was in the area of comfort sex rather than the true start of a relationship. Pro: He had said he would never want to give her up. Con: Was he just saying that because she was there and Hannah wasn't?

Her mind kept floating back to the conversation they had while gazing at Booth's great blank ceiling. 'Parker and me. Those were the only two things he had said he wouldn't want to change.'

Somehow, despite the alcohol and the emotions running high, she felt as if Booth had been sincere. She knew that she had been truthful as well, although she was sure they never would have fallen into bed together so soon if it hadn't been for the copious amounts of alcohol they had imbibed. But maybe that was what they had needed, "liquid courage" as Angela would say. Maybe they needed something like this to happen in order to push them to do what they had done, to speed up truth.

An hour and fifteen minutes after she had arrived at Muddy Waters, she had made her decision. She was going back to Booth's. They needed to talk about what had happened, and decide if it was truly what they wanted. She knew her answer, and it scared the hell out of her, but she felt strong, ready to try.

She headed to the counter and bought two new cups of coffee, a cherry danish for Booth, and a vegan bagel with garden Tofutti schmear for herself. They needed to talk, and their best talking always came over food or alcohol, and the latter was definitely out of the question.

"These aren't both for you, are they?" the girl behind the counter asked.

"No, the other is for a…friend." Brennan blushed as she took the small brown bags and coffee tray from the girl.

"That must be fun! He likes the sweet stuff and your trying to stay healthy," She laughed and smiled knowingly. "Doesn't matter how much you tell a guy that the sugar is gonna kill 'em, they still insist on eating it in front of you."

"Yes, it can be frustrating." Brennan smiled.

"Yeah, but they're always worth it. Even though they never listen. Am I right?" The Barista grinned.

"I think you might be," Brenna dropped a five-dollar tip in her jar. The girl's eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"Hey, thank you. You have a great day!"

"I think I will." She turned then, coffee and pastries in hand, and walked out the coffee shop door, headed towards Booth's apartment.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

He had just slipped on a fresh pair of boxers and some old sweat pants when he heard a light knocking at the door to his apartment. Still feeling sick and hazy, he took his time walking from his bedroom, across the living room, and to his door. His headache still hadn't subsided, but at least he wasn't nauseous any longer. He needed coffee and he needed food, stat. A light rapping came from the door again, making his head throb in time with the taps.

"One sec!" He noted that the chain wasn't on; he must have been to drunk to lock up properly. At least he had managed to turn the bottom lock when he had come home. He pulled the door open slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements that might bring the nausea back. He drew in a sharp breath when his visitor was finally revealed.

"Hannah." His grip on the doorframe tightened as he leaned heavily on it. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised, but he couldn't help the nervous anger that was rising in him.

"Seeley," Her eyes were rimmed with red and he knew that she had been crying. A part of him was satisfied in the knowledge that this was difficult for her as well.

"Hannah," He said again, looking for the words. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know you'd be here so early for you stuff."

"I'm not…I mean…I want to talk." She wasn't looking at him, but at her hands, which twisted nervously in front of her.

"You said it all last night, Hannah." He sighed, not wanting to relive the moment that had devastated him so completely. "I can't…"

"Seeley, please, listen." She looked up at him then and he could see fresh tears glistening in her eyes. "I thought about it…about us…I don't want this to end. I don't want to be with anyone else, Seeley. I love you."

He was shocked, confused, hung-over, and unable to correctly interpret her words. "What…what do you mean 'don't want this to end', Hannah? You made it pretty clear…"

"I take it back," She blurted out. Her hand made its way to the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek. "I take it back. I may not have been the marrying type before, but that was before you. I…I don't want to be without you, and if that means that I have to change that part of myself, I will."

There was a long pause. Booth's jaw worked in tiny, uneven circles as he looked into her blue eyes. Finally, he spoke. "I don't want you to marry me just because I put you to an ultimatum, Hannah. I want you to want to marry me."

"I do." She said firmly as her other hand came to his bare chest. "I do want to be your wife, Seeley. You're the only man who has ever made me feel this way, and I know now that I was just scared. I want to be with you."

"You're sure?" Booth wasn't going to let himself hope until he knew, knew for sure that she was willing to be his.

"I'm positive." She smiled then, and Booth felt himself let out a long breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "I love you, Seeley."

Booth took a step towards her then, wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. She leaned upwards expectantly as he gazed at her face. A slow smile came to him as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, innocent.

As they lost themselves in the moment, Booth's mind flitted back to his dreams of Bones. He felt as if he was cheating, but he wasn't sure who he was cheating on. 'It was just a damn dream, Seeley. You can't hold yourself accountable for a stupid, alcohol induced dream.' She felt him stiffen slightly, and pulled away.

"Do you still want me, Seeley. I know I hurt you, but…" He placed a finger to her lips to silence her rambling.

"I do. I want you to be my wife, Hannah." He picked her up, despite his aching head and back, carried her inside, and kicked the door shut behind them.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

The elevator was stuck again.

"Figures." Brennan mumbled as she glared at the flight of stairs ahead of her. She began to climb, trying to balance the coffee and treats while maintaining her precarious equilibrium. She would definitely not be drinking that much again. Ever. She fumbled with her keys, knowing that she would just rather have the key she procured from Booth's very convincing rock out and ready to use. She didn't want to wake him if he was still asleep, although she knew he would be cross after waking up on the couch.

She stopped as she reached his floor to do some serious one-handed digging when she heard a voice in the hall.

"….I want you to want to marry me." That wasn't just any voice, Brennan realized, it was Booth's.

"I do. I do want to be your wife, Seeley. You're the only man who has ever made me feel this way, and I know now that I was just scared. I want to be with you." And Hannah.

'Oh God,' she thought, letting her purse drop again to her side.

"You're sure?" Brennan felt her legs go weak beneath her and she leaned eavily against the wall. This couldn't be happening. Not after last night, not after what they had said to each other, done to each other. It was like a train wreck, she couldn't convince herself to retreat, but she couldn't listen anymore. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm positive. I love you, Seeley." Brennan steeled herself and peered around the corner. Her worst fear was realized as she watched Booth lean down and kiss Hannah. This kiss wasn't marked by desperate, frenzied need like the ones the night before. This kiss was soft, tender, a reconciliation. Louder, lips speak louder.

"Do you still want me, Seeley. I know I hurt you, but…" The words sounded so familiar to Brennan's ears, reminiscent of something she had said to Booth not even six hours earlier. She feared his response to Hannah's question, knowing it would negate all that she and Booth had discovered the night before.

"I do. I want you to be my wife, Hannah." It was a sharp shock to her soft side. A killing blow to all she had foolishly let herself hope for. In that moment, she knew that he was gone from her. If he could so easily push aside what they had shared, it must not have been has powerful as she had thought.

'They're…they're better…back together.' She was trying to convince herself of something she didn't want to believe. 'Hannah can give Booth what he truly wants, what he deserves. A life I could never give him. Its better this way.'

She began to make her way down the stairs, vaguely hearing Booth's door slam shut. She exited Booth's apartment building, leaving the coffee and food on the curb for anyone who was willing to stop for it. She was no longer hungry. She was empty. And that was a feeling she had always known how to relate to.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note: **Ok, so I know some of you probably aren't happy with me…just give it time! Please review if you like the story and want to see what happens to Booth and Brennan in this Alternate World! I thrive off of your reviews and I need some inspiration from you!


	3. Chapter 3: Seen Enough by Dryer

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **Don't be sad! There is always a silver lining, perhaps….maybe…not now, though. Thank you so much to all of you wonderful _Bones_ fanatics who posted reviews and are following the story! Your encouragement and kind words keep these finger's flying! Sorry it took so long for Chapter 3, the first two came when I was home sick from work. Please review and tell me if I am on the right track!

**Chapter 3: Seen Enough**

(Song featured in S5:E21 The Boy with the Answer)

I've seen enough to know

I've seen enough,

Seen enough to know

Oh my eyes remind me next time

So I keep them closed

I like to pine away for what I hate

It keeps me in the dark

Like a one-track mind don't let me start

You keep me sharp

Once more into the crowd

Temptation wears you out

Go home, your hearts too loud

Always oh

It's no surprise that all the things I like

Are making me a ghost

I should have never started killing time,

I can't go slow

Once more into the crowd

Temptation wears you down

Go home, your hearts too loud

Always

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan made it about a block and half away from Booth's apartment before a wave of nausea rolled over her like a solar eclipse. She knew that her car was still at the Jeffersonian, but the idea of going anywhere other than home seemed nonsensical. She flagged down a taxi and when they arrived at her apartment she threw an indeterminate clump of bills into the passenger seat, and quickly exited.

At the door she fumbled for her keys, trying not to think about the fact that she had been doing the same thing less than an hour before. Before her world shattered into millions of little, sharp shards. Everything ached: her body, her brain, and if she didn't know better, her heart. She walked quickly to the bathroom and began to fill her tub with only the hottest water. She began to pull at her clothes, desperate to get out of the rumpled confines of the fabric. She tore at Booth's shirt, pulling it violently over her head and tossing it to the floor. She couldn't stand the thought of it being so close to her, of him being so close to her after what she witnessed. She could still smell the scent of sandalwood and musk that lingered on not only the shirt, but her skin as well. She quickly freed herself from her bra, threw it ruthlessly into the corner of the tiled room. Her breath was coming in long, hard pants and she grabbed at the edge of the counter. She looked down at her hands, her knuckles were turning white where she clenched the cool granite.

'Calm yourself, Temperance. Collect yourself.' She coached through deep breaths. She counted down from ten, letting the strain of her grip fade. By the time she looked away, her knuckles had turned from white to a bright red. She met her own eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 'Do not lose control. Do not let yourself feel this.' A few more deep breaths.

She allowed herself then to take in her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess spilling over her shoulders and collarbone, her makeup looked stale and chalky from having been slept in. She quickly grabbed a brush and began combing through the kinks. She let her eyes close at the soft pull of the bristles through her auburn hair, allowing herself to take minute pleasure in the pain that came from the snagging of a knot.

Brushing her hair to the side, she permitted herself another glance to the mirror. Her hand stopped in mid-stroke as she noticed that a small, oval bruise lay on the lower end of her clavicle. A painful reminder of the night, the night she thought that the world stood still, had stood still for her, for them. She had seen enough, seen enough to know that the world plays dirty tricks. It lured her in again, the world of love and connection. She had seen enough to know the truth of the world. She closed her eyes again, willing the small memento to vanish.

She needed a bath, needed to wash away the scent, the feel, and the memory of Booth from her skin. She let her slacks pool to the floor, not allowing more than a millisecond to register that she had on only the slacks and nothing more. She lowered herself into the scalding water and let herself go under. She imagined that she was sinking into a deep, endless sea. Further and further, she let the water burn away any feeling she may have still had. If only water could burn away human sentiment.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth was up early on a Sunday morning, which rarely happened unless Parker was staying over. Hannah was still asleep and he had the apartment to himself, and for some reason, he was glad for it. There was a lingering ache in his back from his night on the couch, but the thought of lying down made him cringe. If he let himself go back to sleep, he would most likely go back to his dream world, where he couldn't afford to be.

After a great round of make-up sex, some dinner, and a movie, Hannah and he had made their way back to his apartment and settled in for the night. He was happy, but his elation was bittersweet. As he slipped into slumber, his fantasies had returned. Bones lying beneath him, her hair wrapped around his fingers, the sound of her soft sighs. He woke up at five-fifteen a.m. in a cold sweat and with a raging hard-on. When he had come to his senses and turned to his side, he saw a mound of soft blonde hair next to him and his guilt was enough to get him out of bed and away from Hannah's sleeping form. He chalked it up to his binge on Friday night, God knew he was still feeling the effects of his mind-numbing hangover, but even that wasn't enough to keep him from padding into the kitchen and putting on a pot of coffee.

'Jesus, Seeley.' He chastised himself. 'Get your head on straight.' He ran his hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as if the pressure would erase the sensual images from his mind. He took another gulp of hot coffee, enjoying the burn as it traversed down his throat.

Not many people knew this, but Seeley J. Booth liked to clean. He wasn't a neat freak or Obsessive Compulsive about it, but when he couldn't get his mind right he would take a chapter from his mother's book and start scrubbing. He tried not to think about the 'why' of this habit, knowing that it stemmed from the many times he watched his mother clean the same counter for the fourth time in row the hour prior to his father returning home from work. Instead, he began to sweep the floors intently. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights in the living room, partly because their was just enough morning light streaming through the windows of his apartment and partly because he did not want to wake Hannah and share the quiet empty space. Plus, the apartment was a mess.

He swept around the coffee table, picking up a few loose coins. Around the recliner where a treasure-trove of paperclips had gathered, the evidence of late work nights and mounds of reports waiting to be reviewed and filed. The soft swishing of the broom seemed to lull him, the order that came from collecting dirt, dust, and junk from where it had gathered around his furniture lent some sort of order to the hectic past few days he had experienced. He no longer focused on what he was sweeping, just that he was moving, doing, making something that was dirty clean again. He leaned down with the dustpan, collected the grime, lint, and miscellaneous objects and tossed them into the trash.

He straightened the blinds, loaded the dishwasher, and ran a damp rag over the furniture to collect any lingering residue, and then fell into the couch with another cup of coffee. He was still so tired, but he couldn't go back to sleep, he wouldn't. Sleep would bring him back to that place, that dream, and he couldn't do that. He couldn't do that to Hannah. Instead he turned on the TV and tried to lose himself in the early morning sports report.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

"Who the hell has a home tanning bed?" Hodgins asked as he examined the liquefied pool of goo that was their most current victim. Nothing left but a mass of jelly fat, some bones, and a fully intact hand hanging limply from the UV monstrosity before him. "Aren't there easier ways to get cancer?"

"Exposed mastoid process and rounded frontal bones suggest female." Brennan let her latex encased fingers hover along the brow of the skull, pointing at something she some how expected Hodgins to recognize and understand. His orbital blue eyes turned towards her, despite his head remaining still.

"I think the bikini is a big hint, too." He couldn't help himself at times, allowing the sarcasm to tumble out of his mouth. One of these days Brennan was going to punch him for it, he just didn't know when.

"Right." He hadn't expected her to agree with him so readily. She usually gave him some sort of lecture on the futility of verbal irony in the work environment. Still, he counted himself lucky that day and followed along as she continued her analysis. "Porous sternal rib end indicates that she was in her thirties." He nodded along with her, waiting for the examination to continue. "Tanned complexion was considered unattractive until the 1920s when Coco Chanel went to the South of France and returned with a tan." Interesting fact, although it seemed to be a tangent.

'Sounds a bit too much like Vincent for my taste.' He thought as he continued to stare down at the remains. 'God knows we already have enough digressive facts flying around without her getting in on it to.'

"Think she fell asleep in here? Probably an accident, right?" He hoped he didn't sound to eager to chock this easy bake disaster up to a simple mishap.

"Well, I have no idea." Brennan said quickly, a little too quickly. "I have to thoroughly examine the remains."

"No, its just before I left the lab, Cam said something about having plans tonight—being Valentine's Day and all, so I think she's probably going to want to put this to bed early." There, blame completely off of himself and onto Cam. 'You can't get mad at the boss lady, right?'

"Are you suggesting that we not do our jobs properly?" Her voice was firm and uncompromising. He should never have brought this up. He stood up quickly, hands shooting out in a defensive posture.

"No! Hey! Not Me! Cam. My boss." He walked away slowly, hoping that his indignant tone would allow him to get out of this conversation without the impending lecture and with some dignity. "I'm just passing on the information here. Guess today is such a special day for her because of her new boyfriend." He took a knee next to the tanning booth again, trying to seem focused on his job and not on the possibility of working late.

"Valentine's Day was originally meant to commemorate a Christian martyr that died in quite a horrific way. Investigating this death is a more appropriate way to celebrate."

Her voice was hard, unyielding, and Hodgins knew that he had just stepped in the proverbial 'it'. He scooped up a loose entrail with a pair of tweezers and pretended to become completely engrossed in the mess in front of him. Still, that didn't keep him from mumbling quietly to himself, "Yeah, I'm going to let you tell her that one." Score another one for sarcasm.

"Good morning." Booth sauntered in with a grin on his face.

"What's got you so happy, G-man? We are at a crime scene, remember?" Hodgins called over his shoulder at Booth.

"The housekeeper I.D.'d the body as a Wendy Bovitz." Booth glanced into the ruined tanning bed, grimaced, and then continued. "She was a wedding planner."

Brennan remained uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, Hodgins noticed she hadn't even looked up from the remains to greet Booth. That was odd. Brushing it aside, he turned back to Booth. "Yeah, we gathered from the photos and decorations. What about you, looks as if you're about to do a cha cha right out of the room."

"Me? Cha cha? Come on." Booth raised a single eyebrow in a doubtful manner, but his mouth was still grinning. "Can't a guy just be happy to be at work?"

"No." Hodgins said bluntly. "But a guy can dance around something he really wants to say. Cha Cha, Samba, it doesn't really matter which Latin dance you choose."

"You, my friend, are paranoid." It was Hodgins' turn to quirk an eyebrow at the very true and very obvious statement. Booth coughed lightly, "Right." Turning away from the entomologist, Booth's attention looked over at Brennan. "What do we got, Bones? Homicide? Accident? Please say accident."

"I am not yet finished examining the remains." Her voice was quiet but blunt. All fact.

"Come on, let's just pack it up and take it on down to the lab." Booth's laid a good nature hand on her shoulder. "We all got plans tonight, I'm sure. We'll just get back there and you can work your bonesie-magic."

Brennan sharply twisted out from under his hand. 'Whoa, touchy today.'

"As I have already stated to Dr. Hodgins, a foolish and ill represented holiday will not be the reason for us not doing our job accurately and thoroughly." Her voice was ice and left no room for argument.

"Whoa, Bones…" She stiffened at the use of her nickname, but still didn't turn to look at him. "I wasn't trying to piss you off."

"Well, yours and Hodgins' apparent disinterest in professionalism is not something to be taken lightly." She mumbled.

"Hey! It was Cam, not me! I already explained this." Hodgins was lost.

"Lighten up, Bones." Booth's tone was flippant. He was irritated and angered at her dig on his commitment to his job. "Don't worry. We'll do it your way. We always do."

"Not always." She said quietly. With a sigh, she removed her gloves, the snap of latex surprising both men at its suddenness. "Lets just get this back to the lab. I don't feel like having this conversation any longer."

"Umm…ok…" Booth shifted uncomfortably. He watched as she stood up, finally turning to face him. There was a long pause, and the three stood there in the prickly silence. Hodgins, never one for awkward silences, chose to break the stalemate.

"Soooooo…." He cleared his throat. "…back to the lab then."

"Yeah." Booth shook it off, he wasn't going to let Bones ruin his day, no matter how hot she looked in her Jeffersonian jumpsuit. "Hodgins, you still have that scuba gear?"

"You know it! What's up? You looking for more underwater treasure? I'm game." Hodgins was glad for the change in topic.

"Sort of. You see I need you to find this ring." A smile spread to Booth's face, he was bursting to divulge his news. "Hannah and I are getting married!"

"What? That's awesome! Congratulations, man!" The shorter man swept Booth up into his equivalent of a bear hug, patting him heartily on the back. Booth gave him a tentative tap, and Hodgins pulled away straightening his jumpsuit. "I mean…great. I knew it would happen. Wait…why do you need my scuba gear?"

"I don't need it, per se. I was hoping you'd go diving around the museum pond for me. I sort of…dropped it there." Hodgins looked unconvinced. "Seriously, I dropped it." Booth shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of Hodgins' skeptical gaze. "Are you gonna help me or not, Hodgins?"

"Of course I'll find the ring, jeez. I was just hoping I'd get the real story." The look on Booth's face told him that the truth wasn't going to be revealed any time soon, if ever. "Right. I'll get on that. Not tonight, though."

"Of course not. Later. When you got time." Booth nodded at his friend, a gesture of deep, 'manly' understanding. "Thanks, Hodgins."

"No, problem. Hey, Dr. B, did you hear the news…" Hodgins turned to where Brennan had been standing, but she was already gone and the field techs were starting to scoop up the soupy remains into bio-waste containers. "Huh…guess she really wanted to get out of here."

"Yeah…" Booth's hand went to the back of his head and scratched. 'Where did she go?' He had to admit, he was a bit hurt from her lack of enthusiasm, but then again, she had been in a foul mood. He'd catch her later at the office.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

'Monday's are the worst.' Angela thought as she dropped her messenger bag on her office couch, then flopped down beside it. The extra weight that had gathered around her midsection was beginning to take its toll and her back was now aching. It was only eleven a.m. and she couldn't wait to be in bed. 'At least it's Valentine's Day. I can look forward to some chocolate, if not coffee.' She slipped out of her almost comfortable shoes and placed her swollen feet on the ottoman, tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and hoped no one would notice her for another hour. Unfortunately, this break from reality only lasted anther fifteen seconds.

"Angela," Brennan swept into the room, "Have you managed to compile the data an project the possible weapon used on the victim?"

"Hold on there, Sweetie! We seriously just got out of the meeting with Cam. I'm no Houdini, these things take a little longer than five minutes." Angela struggled a bit to sit up, grimacing as all the blood rushed back to her throbbing feet.

"I am aware of that," Brennan seemed flustered to Angela's trained eye, "I just…I was just seeing if you had any posited theories."

"You're asking me if I have a hunch?" Angela's face was a mask of incredulity. "You don't do 'hunches', Bren. What is going on? You've been…weird…ever since you came in this morning."

"Nothing is going on. And as for being…weird…you know that I have never fit into what one would call a 'social norm'. Thus my being 'weird', as you put it, is nothing new by the standards set in our…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…you may still be able to drink caffeine, but that is not the ship I'm sailing on." Angela made her way to her feet. She rested a hand gently on Brennan's shoulder. "Slow down. You don't need to tell me about 'weird' for everyone else, Bren. You're being weird for you. What's gotten you so worked up?"

"I'm not worked up. I just have a great deal of work to do, and I would like to finish this by tonight. Is that too much to ask?" Brennan shifted her weight from foot to foot, the doctor's equivalent of being fidgety. Angela stared at her for moment, her soft brown eyes trying to read Brennan's stony face.

"Is this about Valentine's Day? Do you not have a date for the night?"

"Of course not. I have had more than a few requests for my company tonight. After all I am very attractive and intelligent." Brennan shrugged Angela's hand from her shoulder, restrained hurt making an appearance.

"Of course you are, Honey." Angela folded her arms in front of her and waited.

"I just haven't had a restful weekend. I became entirely too intoxicated with Booth on Friday night and I haven't fully recovered." Brennan's eyes darted away from Angela. Understanding bloomed on Angela's face.

"Oh, Honey, is this because of Booth? Have you been trying to comfort him since Hannah turned him down?" Angela grasped at Brennan's hand, her eyes smiling. "Just because he doesn't have Valentine's plans doesn't mean…" Brennan tore her hand from Angela's with such force that anything she may have been about to say vanished quickly and completely.

"Booth and Hannah are engaged." Angela's eyes widened and her shapely eyebrows shot up her tanned forehead. This wasn't good. Angela knew her friend better than Brennan would like to admit. When things had ended with Hannah, she had been certain that Brennan and Booth's time had come.

"Wait…you called me Friday. You said that you were going to the Founding Father's because Booth had just been turned down." Angela's head was cocked to the side, her nose scrunched in confusion.

"Yes, well, their back together." Brennan shifted again, her own arms crossed defensively across her chest. "Still, I don't know how that would effect me, my mood, or my professionalism. I just want to finish this case, and I want to go home."

"Right…case…"Angela continued to stare at Brennan who had turned away from her, suddenly very interested with the geometric patterns that were spiraling on the AngelaTron's screen. She was absently tugging at the collar of her shirt, pulling it further up her neck. "Bren…when…when did you find this out?"

"This morning at the crime scene." Brennan's shoulders stiffened.

"He told you at the crime scene?"

"Yes, but I already knew." Brennan's voice was quiet, just above a whisper.

"How…how did you know?" Angela took a step closer to her friend's turned back.

"I…I went to Booth's, to bring him coffee and breakfast and I saw them." Brennan straightened suddenly. "It was a very sweet reconciliation. I'm very happy for Booth. Hannah and he are a very compatible couple."

"But, Sweetie…" Angela began, just to have Brennan swing around and make a bee-line for the door.

"Please notify me when you have some results, Angela. As I said before, I just want to go home." And with that, Brennan was gone.

"This can't be good." Angela mumbled to herself.

"What can't be good?" Hodgins waltzed into the office, taking in Angela's surprised appearance.

"Booth's marrying Hannah." Angela was still staring at the door her best friend had breezed through. Brennan was not telling her something, something that was larger than just the prospect of loosing Booth to Hannah. Brennan had a look, something Angela could only describe as pain and maybe betrayal. Brennan had looked broken.

"Yeah! I know. He asked me if I still had my scuba gear. He wants me to find the ring. Get this, he says he 'accidently' dropped it." Hodgins' gloved hands went up to make a quotation sign. He chuckled lightly, "Right. Dropped."

"You agreed to do it?" Angela's angry gaze was now turned on her husband. Hodgins suddenly felt trapped.

"Uh, yeah. Should I not have?" He was testing the water, not sure if this was an actual question or one of Angela's many mood swings rearing its ugly head. Angela let out a frustrated grunt and began to hustle Hodgins' from the room.

"Sometimes men can be so freakin' stupid. Go! Go!" Hodgins didn't need to decide between fight or flight, he knew the look in his wife's eyes and he had missed some important clue and now was not the time to ask for clarification.

"I'm going, I'm going." Angela slammed the door after him. Her last bit of energy used up, she rested her forehead against the cool glass of the door.

"Poor, Brennan." She sighed, and moved back toward her couch. "This can't be good."

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth was irate as he walked through the sliding glass doors of the Jeffersonian lab. He couldn't make heads or tails of the compound readings that Hodgins had faxed over to him. Apparently this was supposed to shed light on who may have killed the now soupy wedding planner, seeing as Hodgins had written, "You owe me one, big guy!" at the top of the report, a smiley face punctuating the all caps message.

'What the hell is Stockholm tar and neat's-foot?' He rolled his neck, trying to relieve the pressure that had built up over the course of the day. He had been going it alone, his partner apparently too busy at the Jeffersonian to actually help him solve this case. She hadn't been answering her cellphone or responding to his texts and he had been trudging through the interviews and evidence all on his own. He had forgotten how hard this job could be alone. Still, he was determined to get answers, and if that meant going to the source, he would. He tromped into Brennan's office without bothering to knock, "Bones, you here?" His voice was tinged with irritation and impatience.

"Booth," Brennan looked up quickly from her computer, surprise clearly written on her face. Her glance became brief, uninterested, and she immediately turned back to the computer screen, pouring over some statistical document or another.

"Booth? That's it? I have been trying to get ahold of you all day. What gives?" He stood firm, hands crossed over his chest, manila folder slightly crushed from the force of his hold. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been here, Booth. Obviously." She still wasn't looking at him, which only made him more annoyed.

"Yeah, well you should have been out with me on this case. We're partners. That means you're actually supposed to work with me to solve this."

"Angela sent you her findings regarding Mr. Bovitz's activity on his wife's email account and Hodgins has sent you samples of the oily residue found on the murder weapon. What else would you have me do, Booth?" Her tone was that of an adult speaking to an idiot child. God he hated it when she did that.

"Really? After all this time you expect me to know what this stuff says?" He threw the file on her desk. He felt petty, childish, and she was certainly treating him that way. Still, it felt good to react.

"It's horse hoof oil, Booth. The kind someone who drove a horse carriage around all day would use. It was written in all generic terms and was not at all scientific." She wasn't looking at him again and he felt himself start to lose control.

"What the hell is wrong with you today, Bones? Are you trying to start a fight? Just help me out, damn it, and cut the petty bullshit." The words tumbled out of his mouth. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or perhaps the guilt he felt knowing that she was the one who was haunting his dreams when it should have been visions of his fiancé. He didn't know why. Right now he just wanted to make her feel as he did, conflicted. "I don't know what your fucking problem is, but don't go shitting all over me, Bones. I don't have time to figure out your god damn code."

He was shocked at himself, at the venom he was spitting, and as he looked into her now wide eyes filled with shock and hurt, he wished he could take each word and shove it back down his throat. Better to choke on his own bitterness then subjecting her to it. There was a tense silence that hung between them, marked by more than anger, dripping with disloyalty. He had gone too far, cut too deep. Shame now crowded in on his already guilty conscious.

"I…I'm…God, Bones. I'm sorry." She turned away from him then, but not before he saw the look of disgust that curled at her pretty lips.

"I don't have time for your outbursts or your lackluster apologies, Booth. What do you need?" Her voice was cool, clinical.

"I..." He didn't know where to start. "I guess…I guess I need…your help." His tone was defeated, chastised. "I can't make an arrest with just the horse hoof oil, Bones, let alone convict. I need more."

"You always do." It was a whisper, barely audible to his ear, and he couldn't help but wonder what she meant by it.

"Look, are you…are you up for an interrogation? I have an idea…" He felt like he was asking her to martyr herself for the cause, and maybe he was after treating her so poorly.

"I'll meet you at your office, Booth. After that, I'm going home." She was monotone, emotionless, and he didn't know why, but that scared him more than anything else.

"Look, Bones…I really am sor…"

"Just go, Booth. I'll be there in half an hour." Her eyes never left the computer screen. Even if she had looked to him, he would have had nothing else to say. He left her office without another word. When he turned back to glance one last time at his partner, he could see her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. She was crying.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan watched as Booth sauntered over to the interrogation room's double sided mirror. "Tell you what, we're convinced that your wife was having an affair." He gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod, her cue to get ready to come in with the murder weapon and a very convincing, albeit untruthful, analysis.

"Yeah, I don't…I don't think so." It was obvious that Bovitz was starting to sweat. She just needed to wait a few more seconds, wanting to time it just right. She may have been angry, hurt, but she was still a professional and she wanted this scumbag arrested and convicted. Nervously, Bovitz looked up quickly at Booth, trying to perfect a look of naiveté. "Do you think Darren killed her?"

"Oh, I have another theory." Booth stared at the suspect for another long second, then turned away quickly, his posture affecting an air of offhanded casualness. "What do you think is the number one motive in a murder? Would it be money or jealousy?" A soft tap on the glance told her it was show time.

"I want a lawyer." Bovitz was starting to clam up. It was now or never.

"Fine." Booth turned to him, shrugging indifferently. "Fine. You don't have to talk. That's your right, but…you might want to listen." Brennan walked confidently into the room and handed Booth the evidence bag containing the wedding topper used to kill Wendy Bovitz. "This is the murder weapon."

"On the murder weapon is the same oil you use on your horse." Brennan allowed her posture to become unaffected, careless. Her voice sounding dull to her own ears.

"Anyone can buy horse oil…"

"Horse oil and…" Booth began, a grin spreading across his face. For a moment Brennan forgot herself, allowing the comfort of their coordinated rues take her in.

"Your DNA where you held it when you stabbed her." The explanation rang so false in her ears, but she knew that Bovitz would fall for it. He was a moron and it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to their con.

"Ok, tell you what." Booth dropped the decorative spike to the table, the loud clink of metal meeting wood ringing through the small room. "Give us your DNA, maybe your innocent. If you don't, your definitely guilty. So what's it gonna be?" He gave Bovitz a pointed look.

There was a long pause. Bovitz looked ready to crack, but he needed a slight nudge to get him there, to push him over the edge of defiance and into confession. This was Brennan's turn to shine.

"This isn't fair," she said softly.

"What?" Booth was good. She almost believed that he was surprised at her response.

"I'm a law enforcement professional. I've seen it all, but this…" her voice hitched, "…this isn't fair. You're like Heathcliff."

"Who's Heathcliff?" Okay, so this guy was more challenged than Brennan originally thought.

"Heathcliff from…from _Wuthering Heights_," She glanced between the two men, waiting for recognition to dawn on them. Seeing that it wasn't coming, she moved on. "Heathcliff was a real man, but misunderstood, forced to be something less." Bovitz was listening intently now, the slight nod of his head telling Brennan that she was on the right track. "The way you had to give up your dreams, to…to drive a carriage." She spit the last word out like it was a bitter substance.

"I can…I can only imagine what that is like." Only she didn't really have to imagine, she knew. She paused for a moment, letting the words roll around in her mind. She knew what it was like to give up a dream, to give up hope for someone else's happiness. She commiserated with the character whose faith in what could be was ripped cruelly away and replaced by what actually was.

"Then, the person you do all of that for—he goes and gives his heart to another." She didn't hear her mistake, the slip of her tongue, but Booth had. His eyebrows shot up his forehead, his head cocked to the side, confusion and bewilderment was written across his face.

"Well…kinda…yeah! I know what your saying! Darren wasn't even a real man! He was a half-man! He was who I should have killed, not Wendy!" Bovitz was momentarily unaware of what he had revealed. Still, realization dawned on his face before the weight of his words even registered between the two partners. Letting his head fall into his hands, he groaned, "Ah, shit."

Brennan blinked a few times, shaking herself from his befuddlement. She couldn't believe she had just said that, just projected herself into the scene she had prepared for the interrogation. She had revealed too much, had let Booth see her bewilderment. She felt like she may break apart at the seams at any moment. She stood up straight, her posture becoming rigid, unyielding.

"Are we done here, Agent Booth?" He stared at her, still to lost to form words. "Booth…are we done." She needed to get out of there, out of that tiny room, away from him. If she didn't she might end up saying more than she wanted to. She couldn't humiliate herself that way.

"What…uh…yeah. We got it, Bones. We're…we're good." He straightened and looked away. Her tone had gone from impassioned to dispassionate in a matter of seconds and she could tell it had unsettled him. She turned quickly, her hand reaching for the doorknob, ready to flee. Booth's hand shot out and covered her own before she could open the door. "Bones, wait…are you…"

"I'm going home. Please, let me leave." She couldn't help the slight crack from entering in her voice, changing her tone from clinical to broken. She shook his hand off hers, pushed her hair behind her ears, and cast her glance to the floor. "Just let me go." So quiet.

"Yeah…sure, Bones." He moved out of her way, allowing her to brush past him as she left. She felt him stiffen slightly as her shoulder brushed his chest, and she knew that he probably had noticed a similar reaction in her. She cursed her body for reacting and her mind for being so weak as to betray her in a fit of words. "Goodnight, Bones."

She said nothing as she swiftly walked down the hallway, never turning around. She entered the elevator and left Booth standing there baffled.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

It was only six-thirty and though she had only been home for an hour, she was already on her second glass of dry white wine. Even though the bottle had cost well over a hundred dollars she drank it without savoring it. It was just something to do, to let the day, the weekend slip from her mind. She wished that she could be anywhere but there, alone in her apartment. She wanted a distraction, wanted to feel the way she had before. Before Booth had walked into her lecture hall, smiled at her and asked if she believed in fate. She wanted to be that woman again, the one who knew without a shadow of doubt that she was unique among all beings, that she was superior. She knew now, however, how easily she could be replaced, how inconsequential she really was. Although her achievements and accolades spoke to her intelligence, she knew that she had failed in the one arena that mattered, the one truth of life; no one would truly mourn or remember her. She would be a name cited in a research paper, a topic for a high school student's book report. There would be no one to trace her lineage, to remember her love story, to tell their children and their children's children of her adventures. She would end, people would mourn, then forget. A branchless limb on another family tree cataloged, but never cherished.

Booth would have that with Hannah. They would have their children to tell of their life. They would have a grandchild who spoke with pride of their grandfather's sniper skills and detective work, of their grandmother's contribution to wartime reporting. When they became old, someone would lovingly hold their hand as they spoke of the past, told them their stories. Who would she tell her stories to?

Finishing her glass, she immediately grabbed the bottle from where it sat on her coffee table and filled it again. She leaned her head back and let the deep sonorous cello fill her thoughts. Adagio Moderato performed by Jacqueline Du Pre. She had been so young, so beautiful, a prodigy who was able to make the lacquered wood of her stringed instrument sing with pain and loss. Jacqueline had been a beauty with talent to match, her career skyrocketing, only to be torn down to nothing but a frame of the woman she had been. Disease rendered her unable to perform; depression rendered her unable to live. A life filled with professional accomplishment and personal failure. 'She sabotaged anything worth having, and is now only remembered for her tragedy.' She sat quietly, taking small sips of her wine, and finally allowed the her silent tears to come. She let the crescendo of the music roll over her like a wave. Its apex was ruined however, by a firm knock on her door.

She sat of quickly, dabbing at the dampness around her eyes. She didn't want to converse with anyone, she wasn't in a state to. 'If I don't breath, if I don't move, maybe they will go away.' She thought and stilled her hands on the hem of her shirt. The sharp knock came again, and she knew that who ever was there could here the orchestra blaring from her stereo.

"Bones, open up please. We need to talk." Booth. The only person she couldn't bare to see now, if ever. She steeled herself, straightened her clothing and lifted herself from the couch reluctantly. She felt as if she were made of lead, or iron, or any substance that seemed unmovable. She walked slowly to the stereo, hoping that in the time it took her to reach it, Booth would disappear from her doorstep. As she pressed pause his voice sounded again, soft and imploring even through the thickness of the wooden barrier between them. "Bones, please."

She had reached the door, her hand stilled at the knob, allowing herself one more moment alone to compose herself. She cracked it open slightly, not allowing him access to her dim sanctuary just yet. "What do you want, Booth?" Her voice was hoarse.

"Bones, please…" He was pleading with her again. "…why…what is wrong?" She said nothing, afraid that her vocal cords would betray her. "Can I…can I come in. Can we talk?"

There was a long pause, but she finally turned away from the door, leaving it ajar to allow him the entrance that he requested dolefully. She braced herself on the granite counter top of the kitchen, knowing she would need support for this conversation, even if it were only from the cool inanimate stone. She heard him close the door behind him, and gathered herself up. Through the buzz of alcohol that was running through her veins, she was able to muster some strength, some reason. "Why are you here, Booth?"

"Today…at the interrogation…and earlier too. I'm sorry, Bones. I don't understand what is going on with you, but I'm sorry." She could feel him inching closer, and it sent a shiver through her spine.

"Don't pity me, Booth. I don't need your apologies." She spit out quickly. She heard his approach cease, and was gladdened by the fact that he came no nearer. She wouldn't know what to do if he actually touched her.

"I don't pity you, Bones. I just…I just don't know what's wrong." How could he not know, or did he just not care? How was she supposed to react in this situation? How was she supposed to react to his confession, her submission, his disloyalty and insistence that she be happy for him? Why couldn't he just leave her alone, let her at least try to heal?

"You shouldn't be here," she said softly as she stared down into the cluster of speckles in the rock before her. She took a deep breath, "You probably have plans, Booth with…with Hannah. You should probably go."

"Not until we talk, Bones. Not until you tell me what has gotten you so…so upset." She shook her head, a light sardonic laugh passing through her lips. How could he be so dense? She could here him moving toward her again, his heavy footfalls coming closer. "We're partners, Bones. We have to talk this out." A hand on her shoulder, she ripped away from him, spinning out of his grasp, spinning out of control.

"Talk about what, Booth? There is nothing to talk about. You like evidence…don't you, Booth? Well, here's the evidence…your marrying Hannah, despite the fact that she broke your heart, despite what I confessed to you that night, despite what you told me. You have your evidence, Booth. Do not be surprised that this is difficult for me." Her voice was high and erratic, the alcohol finally making an appearance in her demeanor. Her hands were shaking and she was sure that her eyes were wild. She was desperate for control, desperate for the comfort of logic. She waited for him to speak, but he just stood there, staring at her, confusion knitting his brow. Finally, he broke the silence into tiny pieces, just like he broke her.

"Bones, I know…I know you told me the truth that night I found you in the rain, and it hurt, finally knowing that I could have you, but…but I'm committed to Hannah, committed to moving on. I built something with her and I can't erase that just because you changed your mind. We've…we've gone to far for that. I'll be honest; I don't remember what I might have said about Hannah a few nights ago, in fact, I don't remember much. But whatever it was I said…about Hannah, about my relationship with her I…I didn't mean it. I was just…angry, confused."

Her eyes widened, her raging mind halting in its tracks. He didn't remember. The things they had done and said, he didn't remember. He thought she was jealous, that she was a silly schoolgirl with a crush. The humiliation of the realization hurt almost as much as the betrayal.

Her mind suddenly began to churn into motion once more, logic, reason, and rationality all coming back. He didn't know, so how could he betray her? He didn't know, so there was nothing to betray. What she had seen was Seeley Booth reconciling with his girlfriend after night of drunken commiseration. He didn't remember the clean ceiling, the tentative confession. She shook her head, took a few deep breaths and let herself calm again, the cherished control she had lost running through her body again. If he couldn't remember, she would not remind him. He would see their act as something tantamount to adultery, especially now that he and Hannah were engaged, and she didn't wish to see him torn in that way. Didn't want him to have to wrestle with his strict code of ethics anymore than he already did. She cared for him too much to burden him.

"Your right. She's not a conciliation prize." Brennan said quietly, turning from him again. She straitened her back, smoothed her hair, and cleared her throat. She felt her confidence return, even if it was only a guise. "I will be fine, Booth, as this too shall pass. I would like to be alone now, and you should go. I am sure you have plans."

"Bones…" He started, but she held out her hand for him to shake.

"Congratulations on your pending nuptials. I know that yours and Hannah's combining of assets will be advantageous. I'm…" She choked slightly on the last part of her speech. "I'm happy for you both." There was a long pause and she could tell that Booth didn't know how to respond. Her hand still hovered in the air, so she retracted it, letting it fall against her hip. "I will be taking the tomorrow off, and then I will see you on Wednesday. Have a lovely night." She turned away then, making her way to her bedroom.

"Bones?" He was still standing in her living room.

"Please lock the door when you leave." She called behind her in a voice that seemed unaffected. She knew the change in her demeanor had been quick, sharp. He would just have to adjust.

"Umm…goodnight, then, Bones." He turned to leave, his steps reluctant. He glanced at her bedroom door just in time to see it quietly click shut.

He knew then as he walked through the threshold of her apartment and back into the hallway that he had lost something, missed something. He knew that this would be hard on her, but something nagged at the back of his mind that this wasn't right. She had turned so quickly, from impassioned to impersonal in moments. He tried to find the correct line of thought, but still nothing came. He left Brennan's house that night with fewer answers than he had before.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note:** So…umm…not the big lovefest that I am sure many of you wanted. It must get worse before it gets better! Hopefully I still have some readers. Please review if you wish for me to continue. Think of Peter Pan begging you to believe in fairies to save his beloved Tinkerbell. Your reviews are my inspiration!


	4. Ch 4: Low is a Height by Great Northern

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **Wow! Thank you all for your amazing comments! I am truly grateful for all of your encouragement. As for the story, I hope this satisfies some of your requests. This chapter is set about a month and a half to two moths after the last one, skipping them forward just a bit. Hope you like it and please review to tell me if I am on the right track. Happy reading!

**Chapter 4: Low is a Height**

(Song featured in S3:E8 The Knight on the Grid)

Drink to the sun

We write to millions

You kill everyone

Around you

Save yourself from...

From the ground you break

And the lives you take

I lock the door

Spinning the dust...

In a room

Still like the sun around you

Don't like the space of

All our space of

And you've just become a word...

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

"Nope, I'm just going to hangout here today, doing abso-positively-lutely nothing. It's going to be great." Hannah smiled from behind her coffee mug. She was still in her pajamas and relished the sight of Seeley straightening his maroon pin-up tie. There was something almost decadent about watching the one you love get ready for work, and knowing that you didn't have to.

"Really? So you're not doing anything? Don't you have a story you got to finish?" Booth stole a piece of toast from her plate with a tired, but devilish grin.

"Hey!" Hannah scooted her plate further down the counter-top, just out of reach of Seeley's greedy fingers. She shot him a dark glare, knowing that he would see right through her fabricated anger. "No story, no interviews, just the day off. You, however, need to get to work so that I can commence some serious lounging."

"So eager to get rid of me, huh?" Booth grabbed up his travel mug and checked his pocket for his keys and wallet.

"Yup. Now go catch some bad guys and say 'hello' to Temperance for me. I haven't seen her in awhile." Hannah was absently spreading jam on her toast, but she could see Seeley's hands still in her peripheral. She knew that Temperance was not handling their engagement well, and in a way she was simultaneously hurt by and for the logical scientist. She knew that Temperance had confessed her feelings to Seeley a nearly three months earlier. She also knew that Seeley had chosen her, despite the partners' complicated history. While this offered Hannah piece of mind, she knew that he and Brennan were close friends and the strain put on their working relationship had been unbearable to watch. She knew Seeley had been working most cases alone, rarely even seeing Temperance. The rate at which they had solved cases had slowed as well, which was never good. Honestly, despite the tinge of jealousy she would feel at the thought of Temperance, Hannah really liked and missed her company. She missed the free and easy joking that used to flow between them during their diner luncheons. She missed their making playful jabs at Seeley, then laughing at their shared understanding of how to push his buttons. Truthfully, Hannah didn't have many friends in DC, and up until their engagement she had counted Temperance as one of her closest.

What truly bothered Hannah was how Seeley would just zone out from time to time. He had taken to sleeping on the couch most nights, slipping out after she had fallen asleep. She knew that the couch wasn't good for his back, and even now she could see the tell tale signs of exhaustion on his face. She felt as if he were pulling further from her just as she was trying to come closer. They were getting married, they were going to share their lives together. She loved him fiercely, but she didn't know how to fix him, to pull him from the undefined quagmire he was sinking in. Honestly, she felt neglected, as if he didn't even want or need to be around her. She tried to believe that whenever his eyes glazed over, whenever he seemed lost in thought, he was just fatigued and thinking about another difficult case. Still she knew that he had never used to be so inattentive, so distant, and somehow she knew that he was thinking about Temperance.

"Okay, then. I'll see you tonight." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Be safe. I love you." She called out, but he was already gone, an apparition in nearly regulation FBI uniform. She shook her head softly before downing the last of her coffee.

She moved over to the couch to catch the early morning show, letting herself relax into the soft leather cushions. However, after twenty minutes she started to become annoyed with the toothy anchor and her puff piece on lightweight fabrics for spring. Digging her had into the couch she searched fretfully for the remote. She came back with a clump of clutter: receipts, paperclips, some change, a few stray buttons. Shaking her head she knew that she couldn't sit there any longer. She had plans for the day, anyhow. She had splurged, buying new curtains, sheets, even a new coffee table to help feminize the bachelor pad she had moved into. Booth had scoffed at the items, and explained that his old furniture was still in good condition, but she had insisted. She needed to make something in the apartment seem like hers, had to leave her mark.

'There's no time like the present.' She coached herself as she pushed off the couch. Where to start though? She moved to the windows, pulling the old beige curtains from the rods and replacing them with the fresh azure blue ones she had bought. 'Looking better already!'

She eyed the old coffee table in the middle of the living room. The delivery guys would be here around noon to deliver the new one, which gave her plenty of time to decide how she wanted to rearrange the room. She eyed the couch with a frown. That would definitely be the next thing to go. Until then, she would just have to move it. She gripped one of the arms, her firm fingers digging into the soft hide, and began to push. If she could get it against the wall it would free up some space as she worked. Her brow furrowed as she kept pushing, the couch being much heavier than it appeared. She had gained traction and was now sliding it over in earnest; her eyes scrunched shut with the effort. Suddenly, she felt her balance leave her, something soft and slick causing her foot to fly out from under her. Hannah crashed to the ground, her knee colliding painfully with the hardwood of the floor.

'What the hell?' She thought angrily as she searched for her assailant. She spotted it, a black scrap of shimmering lace. She reached for them in her frustration, 'Jesus, all that for a pair of damn underwear? I don't even remember taking the…"

Her mind halted. She felt her hand convulse over the silky material. She and Seeley hadn't been out here, not in a long while. Looking down at the delicate fabric, she felt her breath hitch. These weren't hers. They weren't her size, they weren't her style, and they weren't hers. Her mouth opened and closed in shock, her mind rebelling against the truth her eyes were conveying to her. She felt white-hot anger shoot through her body, coupled with searing sadness and betrayal.

'Whose are they?' But she already knew, as surely as she knew her own name. She knew they belonged to Temperance, knew that Temperance had been here, with Seeley, the night she had turned down his proposal. Suddenly it all made sense; the strain on the partner's relationship, Seeley's distance. "Oh God, no." She whimpered aloud. This couldn't be happening.

Hannah sat there for what seemed like years, the hard floor pressing painfully against her, her knee throbbing. Yet, nothing seemed as painful as the burn of the tears streaking down her cheeks. She knew she couldn't stay in that room for much longer; she had to leave, had to disappear, had to think. She needed to run.

She pushed herself from the floor and ran to the room. Grabbing her suitcase she threw clothes into it, not caring what seemed to land inside. She dressed quickly, desperate to get out of the place she once thought of as her home. Was she truly ready to just leave, to throw everything away? Or had he already done that for her? She wasn't sure, not yet. She needed to think, to breath. She had to leave this place, at least for now, and she needed to do it fast. As she grabbed her purse and wheeled her luggage to the door, she stopped one last time to look at the tiny apartment she had shared with Seeley for nearly a year. She wasn't sure if, or when she would be back.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

The smashed piece of copper warmed as Booth absently rolled it in his palm, the sounds of the activity outside his office just barely intruding upon his reverie. The gold standard, disconnecting the computer: Broadsky. He had hoped that Jacob had been spooked after their altercation in the woods, but deep down, he had known that Broadsky was just biding time, lying low and waiting for his trail to cool. A few weeks earlier, at the crime scene where counterfeit bills had littered the floor like confetti, he had realized that this was far from over. When he had found Broadsky, casually sitting in his living room with a gun pointed at his turned back, he was certain that he had to end this. It had been dumb luck that Hannah had been away at a conference in Philadelphia, and Booth shuddered to think what may have happened to her had she been home when Broadsky broke in. Collateral damage. Jacob was getting too close for even the slightest comfort. The rogue sniper had said that Booth and he were the same, and even though his surface self didn't believe this, Booth feared that the maniac had been right.

It hadn't been easy lately. Bones had been spending most of her time holed up in the lab and he rarely ever saw her. When they did meet up it was at a crime scene over a pile of decomposing remains or at the Jeffersonian going over critical evidence. Their conversations rarely left the topic of their work and he longed for the days of easy flowing banter between them. While Bones was no longer outwardly distant towards him, he could tell that something was strained between them, a regular mastodon in the room.

As if to compensate, his mind seemed to be over run with fantastic images of her lithe form bending and groaning beneath his. These fantasies were no longer just plaguing his nights, but were beginning to intrude upon his everyday activities in the form of waking dreams. Any time that he wasn't completely engrossed in his work, anytime he took the a moment to stare out his office window or during his long lonely drives to and from crime scenes, Bones was there with him, his name on her lips. He hadn't been able to sleep right for weeks.

The strain was making itself known in both his professional and personal life. A few nights earlier, while he and Hannah had been nothing more than a tangle of limbs in his bed he had nearly slipped. She had been above him, gripping the headboard as she rode him hard, and for a moment he forgot himself. Suddenly it was Bones' strong frame rising and falling above him, her soft breasts swaying in time with their movements, her auburn hair wildly spilling over her face and neck. He had flipped her over, hiked her long legs over his hips, and thrust away with abandon. He had been so close, and had wanted her to tumble off the cliff with him. He had heard her breath hitch, a low moan coming from her. Her words still rang in his ears, "Oh God! Oh…Seeley, Seeley!" At the sound of his first name he came to himself, his rhythm faltering, his eyes finally opening to the vision of Hannah flying apart in his arms. He had gone soft then, shame and guilt over powering his body's frenzied desire. He had feigned a Charlie-horse, humiliation coursing through him after forgetting himself. He had waited for her to fall asleep before making his way to the living room to sit in the dark, trying to find an excuse for his disgraceful act.

More and more, Hannah was finding him on the couch in the morning; tell tale dark circles under his eyes, brushing off his insomnia as a byproduct of a particularly difficult case. Everyday he wondered how long he could keep this up, how long he could hide his secret self from the woman he was planning to share his life with. He felt as if everything he knew and understood as constant was gone.

Now, with Broadsky looming around every corner, he had felt even less at ease. After Jacob had threatened to make Parker fatherless, Booth had pushed all of his focus on ending him. He had come close that night on top of the federal courthouse building, had been able to prevent another death, but without someone acting as his spotter he had missed Broadsky completely, just barely firing off a warning shot in time. Booth kicked himself mentally for days, knowing it would be awhile before he came that close to Broadsky again, and when that time came he didn't know who might be caught in Jacob's crosshairs.

He heard a familiar buzzing and his eyes flicked to his cellphone vibrating on the desk. A message from Hannah: "Going to Virginia to visit my cousin Misti. Not sure when I'll be back." He let out a slow breath, relief flooding him. She would be safe there and he'd be able to have a night to think, to plan.

He had to change his priorities, focus only on Broadsky and nothing else. The man was too dangerous, to unpredictable, and in his current state, Booth wasn't sure he could take him out. Not while working other cases. It was time to focus on Broadsky, and Broadsky only. He just prayed that his unpredictable mind would allow it.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan was proud of herself. While she hadn't been able to stomach the closeness that she and Booth once had, she felt as if she were able to get through their encounters genially and with dignity. When Booth was around she concentrated on her tone, her posture, the preciseness of her analysis, and while they were not as they had once been, she felt as if she were maintaining her façade well. Yet, it was a façade and no matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, the fact remained that every time he visited her at the Jeffersonian, every time he hovered just over her shoulder at a crime scene, she felt as if she might shatter.

She had begun dreaming of him, reliving their night together in the hazy frame of her sleep. It seemed that the more she tried to ignore the ever present and illogical emotions her subconscious worked just as hard to remind her of their tryst. She watched them on the couch every night, lips and hands running freely over each other's bodies, clothes being pulled off and shoved aside. She saw her legs cradling his strong hips as he lay with her, his mouth sucking hungrily at her flesh. It was a movie she could feel as much as watch, and when she would wake in the morning, panting and unsatisfied, she would stare endlessly at the ceiling above her and try to calm her riotous mind.

She found this all very distracting and counter-productive in regard to her work. Truth be told, she was waiting for Booth to request a new partner, fear and hope warring inside her. She knew that she hadn't been giving herself completely to her position, and this disconcerted her. What was she if she was not the fore-most forensic anthropologist in the world? She felt as if she were in the safety of the Jeffersonian walls, refusing to release herself from her the place that had now become her convent. Still, it was better than suffering through the activities she once did with Booth, knowing the truth of them and being unable to act. She missed the field, she missed the stimulation, but both of those things were tied to him, and she missed Booth most of all.

It was these thoughts that ran through her head when Brennan had read the email from Dr. Aurelio Castaneda. The director of the Blackwater Draw archeological preservation site, Aurelio was a close friend and colleague from Brennan's days at North Western. They had taken many classes together in the grey space where archeology and anthropology met, and while Brennan had surpassed him both academically and professionally, she acknowledged Aurelio's passion and talent in the field. Though their careers had taken them to opposite sides of the continent, they had remained diligent epistolers, keeping each other abreast of interesting finds and data. In the past six years, however, the commonality of their experiences had dissipated as her work became more focused on the present and his remained fixed in the past. Still, his correspondence was a welcomed sight, a means of connecting her to the discipline she once swore she would never leave.

However, this time Aurelio was not contacting her for friendly collegiate repartee. He had found evidence that a vast arroyo outside of Portales, New Mexico contained the remains of an a nearly nine-thousand-year-old Paleo-Indian burial site. If his initial findings were accurate, there would be plenty of buzz around the find. Brennan smiled knowingly. She knew the rush of uncovering what once was lost, revealing the past through gentle brush strokes. As she read on Aurelio detailed the newest facts of the find: bowls, tools, hearthstones.

'It will be of particular interest to you, Temperance,' she read, her friends crisp tone being called forth from her past, 'that we have also found what seems to be a mass burial pit. This is not uncommon, as you know, but what does cause me some perplexity is the nature in which it was constructed. There is an abnormal accumulation of bones, some animal while others seem to be humanoid in nature. The conundrum I now face being that the humanoid bones vary in distinguishing racial markers, making it difficult to determine whether they all originate from the same group, or even the same time period. Further more, markings indicate some sort of blunt force trauma occurring on most retrieved remains. Quite the pickle, as one would say. So, I ask myself, where is a decent forensic anthropologist when you need one?'

'Where, indeed…' Brennan mused. It was a fascinating discovery, one she would have happily assisted in years earlier, but despite her friend's thinly veiled request she knew that she would be needed at the Jeffersonian. 'Look at what happened to the museum the last time I left.' She knew of some competent colleagues in the Southwest and would send Aurelio their names.

"I have massive news!" Brennan started at the suddenness with which Vincent appeared through her office door, his face adorned with a broad and childish grin. "Tyrannosaurus Rex has arrived."

"Ha! That is massive news." Brennan allowed herself to feel the excitement. Since her time in the field had diminished exponentially, she had been finding ways to keep herself pre-occupied. She had been writing for journals, agreeing to lectures she would have brushed off only months before, had scheduled a handful of book readings for the upcoming months. Anything to keep her mind off of what she had lost, filling the space with the inconsequential and tedious. It was this need to stay occupied that had led her to advising and presenting a paper on "The Comparative Forelimb Osteology and Biomechanics of Theropod Versus Homosapien". In all truth, she was excited by the prospect, as she found it quite humorous.

"Now, Dr. Brennan, I hope that you don't mind, but I enlisted Dr. Hodgins' particular expertise in this area. Well, perhaps not enlisted but actually was forced…" he waifish young man had begun to ramble.

"Mr. Nigel-Murray. I am sure that Dr. Hodgins' opinion on this particular subject would be invaluable to our research." She reassured.

"Well, that is good, because we may have already…" Vincent was avoiding eye contact with the doctor, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

"What? I do not have all day, Mr. Nigel-Murray." She was beginning to lose her patience, but who could truly blame her.

"We've already deconstructed it and created a electrically powered arm suit that replicates strength and movement." He had said it so quickly that Brennan wasn't sure she had followed. They had what…?

"Why don't you show me, Mr. Nigel-Murray, as I seem to be having difficulty sorting through your excitement?" Brennan rose from her desk and followed the giddy young scientist out the door, thoughts of 9,000 year old bones and New Mexico forgotten.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

'…but with you gone, we're next.' Sweets' words were ringing in Booth's ears, a constant mantra reminding him that he was losing. Losing his grip on Broadsky, his grip on reality, his grip on everything. If he weren't there to protect his family, his friends, then who would be? He had to admit he felt relieved when he saw the text from Hannah letting him know she had made an impromptu trip to visit her cousin in Virginia. Partly because he knew she would be safe there, and partly because he would be able to sleep easy knowing that there was no one in his bed to hear his fitful murmurings. It was these thoughts that plagued him as he made his way to the lab platform where Bones and Vincent were examining Lieshenger's remains.

'Another soldier down.' Booth thought. 'Another example of Jacob's twisted and self-righteous logic.' His thoughts were interrupted by a dramatic reenactment. Bones was using Vincent to play out his army buddy's final moments.

"Oh! Yeah. That will account for all the injuries." Vincent placated, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Are you positive? 'Cause I wouldn't mind seeing this one more time." Booth said as he watched Vincent attempt to shrink away from Bones' performance.

"All of this is followed by the coup de grace—" Brennan grabbed Vincent by the collar of his lab coat, holding him securely in place, "a knife thrust beneath the chin."

"Alright! I'm dead…I'm dead! Just take it on faith." Vincent struggled out of Brennan's hold, relief showing plainly on his face as he resigned himself to his place on the floor.

"What does all this mean?" Booth was becoming impatient. He didn't have time for games, not with Broadsky's whereabouts being unknown.

"Well, Lieshenger was beaten and stabbed." Brennan began to straighten, stiffening at Booth's terse tone.

"No, I get that, but how is that gonna lead me to Broadsky?" What the hell was the point of all of this if it didn't lead to Broadsky, lead him to ending this dangerous war of wills.

"It doesn't." Brennan's voice faltered in confusion. Booth pushed on, needing her to understand the urgency of the situation.

"Well, he's out there right now with Lieshenger's weapon." He said pointedly, Brennan's eyes widening at the revelation. She stammered a bit, her eyes tearing away from his and back to the bones on the table, roaming over them in the hopes of some miraculous answer. Booth softened suddenly, realizing that he couldn't force an answer that wasn't there. There was no point in stressing everyone else out. What they needed to do was focus. He noticed Vincent sitting very still on the floor, his eyes wide like those of a small boys. Booth held out a hand, "Come on, kid. I know she killed you and all, but its time to get up and get this figured out."

"Oh, right." Vincent gripped Booth's hand, a thankful smile on his face. Booth couldn't help but grin back at the verbose intern.

Once on his feet, Vincent made his way back to the slab where Lieshenger's remains lay, inspecting them closely just as his mentor did. There was a long pause as both anthropologists examined the same bones they had been combing over for hours. Booth felt agitated, restless, useless. He hated the waiting game, listening to the team go over the technical evidence, fire facts off at one another, knowing that he really couldn't participate, couldn't help. He just wanted answers and his patience was wearing thin.

"There appears to be some sort of faint bruising…" He heard Vincent say, but immediately tuned out. Another area where he had no control, no way to fix the outcomes. Broadsky was somewhere, anywhere, everywhere waiting to strike. God help him if he lost someone close to him. He didn't think Jacob had it in him to harm Parker, at least he hoped that modicum of decency was left in the man, but who would he deem as being on the 'wrong side'?

His eyes darted to Bones as she leaned over the remains. 'Broadsky better stay the fuck away from her.' He thought, his anger rising into his throat. He hadn't even considered it until his talk with Sweets' today, but Bones could potentially be a target. She was integral to solving this case, and that made her dangerous in Broadsky's eyes. He also knew that his relationship with Bones added to her value. He felt every muscle tense at the thought of Lieshenger's rifle being pointed at her.

'Dear God, if he ever so much as fucking breathes in her direction…' He thought, then stopped. 'What? What will you do, Seeley? He has the upper hand, the high ground. What can you do when you're chasing a ghost?' He quashed the thought quickly, not wanting to allow his thoughts to spiral into darkness. 'You need to stay alert, focused. You need to…what the hell is that?' There was a shrill cry emanating from his pocket. His cellphone. Whipping it out, his eyes widened.

"It's Broadsky. Here…"He quickly thrust the phone towards the nearest open hand. He had to activate the call tracking application that Angela had installed. He would not lose Jacob now, he had to stay focused. He had to find him and this could be his only chance.

"Oh…uh...what do I do?" Vincent tentatively took the phone from Booth's outstretched had.

"Don't answer it till the fifth ring. Give me time to get Angela's trace." Booth pulled his second phone out from his pocket. It was now or never, he just hoped that Broadsky would stay on the line long enough for the tracker to do its work.

"And…and then what do I do?" A look of bewilderment coming to Vincent's young face.

"Try to sound like Booth." Brennan clarified, her instructions sounding vague to Booth's ears. The ringing continued as Booth's fingers flew over his phone, engaging the app as quickly as he could, but nothing ever seemed quick enough. Time ticked by in slow motion. Vincent nervously waited, his hands twitching as he held the device. The fifth ring sounded and he uncertainly accepted the call.

"Hello…" Booth heard the glass shatter and leapt into action before he could even comprehend his body's movements, tackling Vincent's slight frame to the floor, pushing him from harm's way knowing that he would be taking the risk upon himself. Shards of glass came crashing to the lab floor and the silence that hung in the air seemed as thick as a Tule fog.

"Are you alright?" He heard Bones' yell from behind the slab, relief washed through him at the sound of her voice. He mentally checked himself, he felt no pain, no shock. Broadsky had missed.

"Yeah, we're alright." He grunted as he began to rise to his feet. His gaze flashed around the room, looking for trajectory even as he was aware that he would find none in the near surroundings. Broadsky had been close, too close. He felt his breaths come in deep pants, his heart racing at his brush with death.

"Booth." He could hear it then, the faint desperation that tinged Bones' voice. What had he missed? Was she really ok? 'God, please let her be ok.' His thoughts were now frantic. He heard a soft gasping echoing below him and his eyes shot to the floor. Vincent was struggling to sit up, a soft red bloom growing on his chest. Booth was shocked, he couldn't move, couldn't think. Then a light spurting of thick red liquid bubbled up from the hole in Vincent's chest.

"Oh, God." He knelt next to his friend, his hands quickly coming to cover the reddened opening in the intern's heart. He pressed down forcefully, willing the blood that was now seeping through his outstretched fingers to evaporate, for this to be another waking dream.

"We need an ambulance! Someone's been shot! Hurry!" He could barely hear Bones yell out, but even through her calm instructions he could sense the fear in her voice.

"Look, Vincent, can you hear me?" He needed Vincent to stay with him, to focus on his voice. He needed for him to concentrate, to listen, to not be bleeding out on the floor.

"Vincent, you have to stay conscious. Some help is on the way." To Booth's trained ear he could hear that Bones' voice had taken on a near hysterical quality, even through the seemingly composed instructions.

"Listen, Vincent, I got to apply pressure on this wound." He coached, clinging to protocol, as it was all he had left keeping him sane. "I know it hurts, but I have to apply the pressure."

"Doesn't—" Vincent sputtered, the once loquacious student retreating into a string of stammered phrases, "it doesn't hurt."

"Tha—that's good, right, Booth?" Hope crept into Bones' voice. He knew better.

"Yeah, that's good." He lied. As he pressed harder onto his friend's chest, he knew that he was losing the battle, knew that he was letting Vincent slip away.

"Pl-pl-please don't make, don't make me leave." Vincent gasped. Booth felt as if the world was swirling around them.

"No, you don't have to leave." Bones' voice hitched with confusion, and Booth knew that she didn't understand, didn't know what was truly happening.

"I-I lo…I love being here. Don't—just don't make me leave." Vincent's eyes were slipping shut and ever word became a struggle. His breath was coming in hard pants, the soft sounds of a dying animal. Booth pressed harder.

"We love you here, we don't want you to leave." Bones' voice began to crack and more than anything Booth wished that she were not next to him, wasn't having to witness this. A soft gurgle came from Vincent's throat and warm blood rushed up through Booth's fingers once more. He was going. 'Not again,' Booth's mind screamed. He couldn't have another good man's dying blood on his hands.

"Open your eyes, Vincent, stay with me!" Booth felt desperate, out of control, unhinged. This boy wanted nothing more than to be a scientist, to do his good work. He didn't ask to be thrust into this, he didn't deserve this end, not when he was so young. 'Oh god, why did I give him the damn phone?'

"I—pl-please don't—just don't make me go." Vincent's eyes squeezed shut, wetness seeping from their corners, willing the moment away. "I-I-I don't want to go. I love—its been lovely…" His eyes shot open and focused on Brennan, "being here with, with you."

"No," Brennan's yell was strangled, as if she couldn't bear to respond, as if it would take Vincent from them even more swiftly. Her voice took on a hysteric tone, "You can stay here with us as long as you like, Vincent. You're my favorite—everyone knows that. Right, Booth?"

Bones turned to him with a pleading look, begging him to reassure her, to tell her this all wasn't happening. He was about to give her what she wanted, to agree to that which he knew was a lie, when he felt a quiet stillness under his palm. Vincent's eyes were heavy-lidded, unmoving, his sporadic gasps had disappeared as quickly as the shot came. He was gone. He slowly backed away from the silent form, a wave of deep sadness and disbelief rolling through his body.

"You have to keep the pressure on!" Bones' gloved hands shot out to replace Booth's blood sodden ones, pressing hard to Vincent's stained chest. It broke his heart to see her lose herself, to lose her grip on rationality. To believe that Vincent was still there, even though it was plain as day that he was not.

"No I don't, bones." He said quietly. He looked to Vincent, to Bones, then to his bloodied hands. A man's life covered his fingers, ran down the length of his wrists, and stained the cuffs of his shirt. Another friend lost.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

'You're staying at my apartment tonight.' Booth's words echoed through her head as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

'No. I am not.' Irrational fear had gripped at her throat. She wanted nothing more than to go home with Booth, to take comfort in him, but she could not go back to his place. The place they were together, the place that already held such heartbreak. She couldn't stand to taint it even more with Vincent's death.

'Hannah is in Virginia. You're staying at my place.' His hand had been on her arm, holding her tightly.

'No.' She knew her face was hard then, conveying her resolution on the topic.

'Fine. Then I am staying with you. I will not have you go home alone tonight, not with him out there, not if he can…' She had watched as Booth's jaw tightened, as his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tamped down the rise of emotions. 'This isn't up for discussion, Bones.'

She knew then that Booth would be coming home with her that night and as she pushed the door open to let them in, she felt herself caught somewhere between relief and dread. She flicked on the light and watched as Booth made a straightaway to the windows, shutting the curtains forcefully. His hands were gripping the stiff cloth, his head was bowed and she watched his shoulders rise and fall in time with his deep breaths. When he finally turned to face her, she could see the strain of the day written across his face. His jaw was tense, his eyes ringed with fatigue. She knew then that the fear and exhaust was mirrored in her own features.

"Keep the curtains shut and stay away from the windows, Bones." His voice was rough to her ears, but his meaning was certain: Broadsky could be anywhere.

"I understand." She said softly, letting her coat slip from her shoulders and fall to a nearby chair. "You should get some sleep, Booth. You look terrible."

"Right." His hand went to his face as he let out a soft chuckle. "I'll set up the couch."

"Booth, I have a guestroom. You can sleep there." Their eyes flicked to the closed door down the hall that was rarely entered. For the life of her she could not remember what the room looked like, or how it would look with him in it.

"I can't…" Booth started.

"Your back, Booth. You have to kill Broadsky tomorrow. You can't do that in the state you're in now. A proper night's sleep will enhance you abilities and allow you to effectively dis…"

"I can't, Bones. I have to be where I can hear everything, get to everything, incase…" Booth's eyes darted about the room as he clung to his final shred of control. "…Incase something happens. I can't…I won't let anything happen to you tonight."

Brennan drew in a sharp breath, the tenderness in his voice echoing through her body. Her eyes dropped to the floor, she tried to control the rush of unwanted emotion, to control her need for him in this moment. She felt as if everything was spinning away from her, beyond the reach of her rationality. She had seen a man, her friend, die in front of her. Had seen the life drift from his eyes, taking him from the confines of reality to… 'Where?' She thought suddenly, 'Where did he go?' Logic told her that Vincent had gone nowhere, but she ached at the thought of the babbling anthropologist disappearing into nothing, becoming only another lump of inanimate flesh and bone. She didn't notice that Booth was beside her until she felt his large warm hand on her chin, gently lifting it to meet his eyes.

"You should go to bed, Bones. You don't look all that much better yourself." His coffee eyes bore into hers, and she could see his concern, and something else, something that she new was being reflected back at him: shared commiseration. She felt her eyes start to burn as she willed herself not to cry, not to let the onslaught of irrational emotion pour forth. She gave a slight nod and turned away from him, away from his warm hand and tempting promise of comfort. She walked quickly to her bedroom, and turned one last time to gaze at her partner. He was staring back at her.

"Good night, Booth." She whispered, not knowing why her voice wouldn't raise any higher. Maybe she didn't want to break the stillness of the air. Maybe she just didn't trust herself to say the right thing.

"Good night, Bones." But she was already in her room, the door like the wall of Jericho between them.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth wasn't asleep, not really. His eyes ached and he silently begged for sleep to come, to rest, but he couldn't. Not with Broadsky behind every corner, not with Bones behind that door. His mind raced with visions of blood spilling over Jeffersonian blue. He could see Vincent's fear as life left him, bleeding out. Inevitably Vincent's doe brown eyes would be replaced with the grey blue of a turbulent sea, and suddenly it wasn't the fidgety intern, but Bones bleed through his hands. It was her convulsing form in front of him, her coloring draining. In his waking nightmare he was screaming at her, begging her to hold on, praying to God, to anything to keep her with him. It was her chest that he pressed violently to, her look of shock and confusion. He saw her in his mind's eye slipping further from him, into that deep nothingness where those left behind cannot follow, where he would have followed willingly. "Bones!" His body lurched forward of his own volition. He was sitting up, panting from his waking nightmare, the feeling of her heart stopping under his fingers so real, so agonizing.

He heard a soft click from somewhere in the room and immediately clambered for the gun he had left on the coffee table, his eyes darting around the dark room for the source. He saw her then, hands up in surrender, eyes wide. He felt as if there was a cold sickening grip on his throat. It was him who was pointing a gun at her, his deadly aim leveled at her heart.

"Oh. I…I'm sorry." Her hands were still up, but she was moving closer to him anyhow, in small tentative steps.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He blinked his eyes against the dimness, pain shooting through his brain. "Did you..." he swallowed and willed himself awake, willed himself into the moment at hand. He stood up from the couch, gun still outstretched. He was unconsciously ready for whatever battle may come. "Did you hear something?"

"No. No." She said uncertainly, taking a few steps back. He could see her tense and unsure; her body ready to flee. Seeing her there; shaken and indecisive, he couldn't let her leave. He had to keep her there with him, for his own piece of mind if not for hers. He looked down at himself, his hands flexing on the weapon in his hands. He hesitantly lowered it.

"Want me to put the gun away?" He forced out, still amazed that he was holding it at all. Her slight nod and whisper of a 'yes' sent his had quickly to the table again, gently laying down the cool metal death. He stood up then and nervously ran a hand through his rumpled hair and down his corded neck. He let out a sigh, willing himself to calm, to focus. "Okay. What's wrong?"

He watched as she slowly walked toward him, his body still twitching from the adrenaline. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes were red, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to make her forget the same thing that he could not. She whispered then, "He kept saying, 'Don't make me go.'"

"What?" His face was a mask of confusion now. Who was there, who had said this? His sleep deprived mind churned rapidly.

"Vincent." She looked away from him then, and he now saw that what he read as fear was actually guilt. Why would she feel guilty? "He was looking at me, and he was saying 'Don't make me leave.' He said that he…" Her eyes began to water and he could see that she was on the verge of tears, her face pulled tight as she painfully released the words that were struggling to be released from her mind, to confess to him. She wasn't strong enough for this, he realized, and her voice broke piteously as she finished, "…that he loved being there. Why would he think that I'm the one making him leave? What kind of person am I?"

"No. Come here." He took another step closer, the distance between their bodies a mere gasp. He gently placed a hand under her chin, her unsuccessfully restrained tears wetting his fingers, her eyes meeting his for a long moment. He couldn't stand to hear her blame herself, to think that she was anything but the compassionate, beautiful, intelligent woman that he knew her to be. "No, no, no, no, Bones. You got it all wrong, all right?" he said softly. She looked away from him unconvinced. "You got it all wrong."

"No, I…I heard him. You did to." She shook her head resolutely, brushing his words away and his heart broke for her. "'Don't make me leave.' That's what he said."

"He wasn't talking to you." He explained, willing her to see the truth in his eyes.

"I was the only one there. And you. He wasn't…he wasn't talking to you." How could she be so naive? How could she place this all on herself? He tried again.

"He was talking to God. He didn't want to die."

"No, Vincent was like me, Booth. He was an atheist." He knew that tone, the one that announced that she was giving some irrefutable fact, some logical point that was as unmoving as stone.

"Okay. Then he was talking to the universe then." His hand slipped into hers, tensing slightly to reassure her of the solidity of the moment. "He didn't want to go. He wasn't ready, Bones. He wanted to stay."

He saw the conflict written on her face, in her eyes, as she tried to process his seemingly illogical claim. He knew what it meant to her, to keep things in control, to keep them compartmentalized. "Well," she began, and he could see she was about to break, "if there was a God, then he would have let Vincent stay here with us."

"That's not how it works." Her eyes studied his for a moment, begging for there to be a better, more rational answer, something he knew he could not give her. He softly pulled her to his chest. He let his arms wrap around her shoulders, rested his chin tenderly atop hers.

"Can you just…"The request was barely audible, but the meaning was clear. She dug her delicate fingers into his shirt, holding it in a tight bunch as she pressed her sobbing body to his. He felt his body warm and cradle her closer, his hand coming to the back of her head, securing her there.

"Yeah. That's why I'm here. I'm right here." He whispered gently into her ear, her soft cries echoing throughout the room. He crushed her closer, taking comfort in her soft, shaking body. He needed her now just as much as she needed him. He would never say it, but she was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from slipping into self-destructive regret. "I know. It's hard."

They stood there for what seemed like hours, her crying into his chest, him pressing soft, comforting kisses to her auburn hair. He could feel her body slacken even though her weeping continued. Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, still pressing his cheek to the top of her head. She didn't tense up, didn't fight it, she just allowed him to walk with her in his arms to her bedroom. He slowly laid her on the bed, the sheets still rumpled, evidence of her fitful night. She clung to him hard, not allowing him to pull away. Taking a deep breath, he slid into the bed next to her. She immediately curled to his chest, and he couldn't help but wrap his arm around her lithe frame and pull her closer to him. Her had rested at his neck, her warm fingers splayed over his pulse point.

She looked up at him, her words a painful plea, "Please…please just stay. Just stay for now."

"I'm not going anywhere, Bones. I'm right here." He let his hand cup her warm, wet cheek, his thumb gently brushing away fresh tears. His heart leapt at the relief he read in her eyes. "I'll be here."

Bones nodded slightly, then laid her head back down to his chest. He could feel her body start to relax, start to loosen from its tense coil. He leaned his head back and allowed himself to take comfort in her breathing, in the fact that she was still here with him, even though Vincent was not. He let out his own shuddering breath, and thanked God for not taking her to.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note: **Thank you again for all your wonderful reviews! They truly keep the fire going and allow me the ability to write. Please let me know what you think and if you want more. Between work and school this can be very time consuming and your comments let me know it is worth it.


	5. Chapter 5: I Hurt Too by Katie Herzig

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who has been following and favoriting this story! I can't tell you what your reviews mean to me, there are just too many and too few words. I know where this story is going, and some of you have a hunch too. I promise that this story will be finished and will not go on forever. Please keep sticking with me and sending me your thoughts.

**Chapter 5: I Hurt Too**

(Song featured in in S4:E4 The Finger in the Nest)

When you're weary

And haunted

And your life is not what you wanted

When you're trying so hard to find it

When the lies speak the loudest

When your friends are starting to leave

When you're broken by people like me

I hurt too, I hurt too

When an ocean sits right between us

There is no sign that we'll ever cross

You should know now that I feel the loss

I hurt too, I hurt too

Even though you are drowning in valley's of echoes

I believe there is peace in those hills up ahead

You will climb 'til you find places you'll never let go

And I will also be here praying just like I said

I hurt too, I hurt too

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

He was terrified. The real fear that curls in the pit of your stomach like a solid set of chains that weighs down your body, keeping you from moving, from running, from preventing the inevitable. He held her in his arms as she bled through his fingers, life seeping like sand through a sieve. He couldn't hold on tight enough to keep her from slipping away from him, disappearing into the nothingness that he clung to as the hereafter. Where does God send those who don't believe? Where does he send those who deny him? The vision of her shuddering her last breath in the loop of his embrace sent him into hysterics. He clung to her body like a lifeline, as if hers were intrinsically attached to his, as if he would slip into that darkness with her. He began screaming her name, pleading, begging for her to stay there with him. She lie there, limp, a shell of a force that was tremendously powerful, intelligent, passionate, mere moments before. He couldn't let go, couldn't unlock himself from her body, as his shouts became sobs.

As he wept helplessly, deeply, he felt a stir. He felt her move against him, the warmth of her body slowly returning to him. He let out a muted sob of relief, the coil of chains releasing their hold on his gut, as he drove his fingers through her auburn hair, pulling her brow to his, letting himself drink from the life in her eyes; she was here, she was alive. The blood that once marred his hands, his chest, his heart, slowly dissipated; disappearing as quickly as it came. He was kissing her then, frantically. Quick hard kisses to her fluttering eyelids, to her confusion-creased brow, her wet cheeks, her parted lips. He couldn't get enough of her, in his arms, the soft breath on his lips insisting upon her solidity, her vitality. Her dying images still fresh in his mind, his lips crushed themselves to hers, demanding entrance, participation. He needed to know that she was with him, in every way possible: breathing, moving, loving. He could live and die on her lips, as long as it meant that she didn't leave.

His hands were wild on her, running through her hair, touching the quickening pulse of her neck, the rigid warmth of her shoulder blades, the gently heaving cage of her delicate ribs. His hands were proving what his mind couldn't believe, that she was safe, she was alive, she was with him. He tore his chapped and quivering lips from hers, moving them hurriedly to her jaw, to her neck, letting them rest against the tiny thumping circle of her pulse. Her heart was beating wildly and he relished at the thought, the certainty of its soft pounding.

"Booth…" It was nothing more than a whisper, but it sent his heart soaring, leaping from his chest as he gathered her tighter to his relieved body. Another sign of life that proved she was well. Her hands grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him to her lips again, a punishing kiss. "I thought I lost you." Her voice was soft, uncertain, as if she too were surprised at his presence.

"Oh God, Bones. Oh God, don't ever go, don't ever leave me." His voice cracked under the force of his emotion. "Don't ever leave…"

"I can't…" She was crying, he could tell from the gulping uneven breaths that escaped her body. And he was with her again, the fuzzy line of his vision clearing only when focused on her. She was pulled tight to him, her breasts heaving from soft little hiccupping sighs against his chest. She was clinging to him just as fiercely, as if she were trying to melt into his body, the stiff cotton black dress shirt becoming paper thin between them. He realized then that her Jeffersonian lab coat was gone, that she was left in the circle of his arms in nothing but his own shirt. The smell of her mingled with the lingering traces of him. His nostrils flared, their combined scent was intoxicating and gratifying on so many levels. He took deep, reassuring breaths, breathing her in like a drowning man gasping for air. He let that fragrance lead him to the crevice where the fabric met skin, a deep V of darkness exposing the pale expanse of her sternum. He nuzzled the soft skin, his rough stubbled cheek scratching along the creamy topsides of her breasts. She was so warm, so alive, so there. He let his hands slide from her hips up along her sides under the rumpled and semi-starched material. His lips were devouring the elegant length of her collarbone, hovering over her heart. His hands quickly lifted the material over her head, his mind crying out at the discarding of the scent infused cloth, his body crying to mark her in a more primal manner.

She lay under him, exposed, her pink nipples contracting into hard points at the rush of contact from the cool air, naked but for the thin white boy-shorts that were the last thing that separated him from her. He knew now that this was a dream. The nightmare had been so real, so true, and he couldn't seem to shake it from his mind. He would allow himself this fantasy, allow himself to feel, to unconsciously claim her in order to ease his tortured mind, erase the image of death, her death, from behind his eyes. He would drink in the sight of her perfection in order to let himself cope, to heal, even if only in a dream.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

She had been dreaming a terrible dream. The shot had been so close, so close to hitting him instead, and the thought of him taking Vincent's place rocked her to the very core. She knew that he would have taken the bullet willingly to save their friend, and this is was what she simultaneously admired and hated about Booth, his innate instinct to be the hero, to protect. Only as she watched him die, she wondered if he knew that his death was the greatest way to scar her, to ruin her. Did he know that she couldn't live knowing that he wasn't?

Just as quickly as the nightmare came, it ended. It ended with his hands on her cheeks, his forehead pressed tightly to hers, his eyes searching hers with…fear? What did he fear? Her answer came in the form of demanding kisses over her face, eyes, brow, as if he were trying to consume her by the lipful. She couldn't breath, couldn't think. All that circulated through her poor exhausted brain was that he lived. While another dies, he lived, and she thanked God, the universe, anything, that he was touching her, his lips caress the proof of life she needed. She felt his lips trail down her jaw, down her throat, stopping over her fluttering pulse. She was struck then, he was reassuring himself that she was alive. He had felt the loss, he hurt too.

"Booth…" his name struggled from her lips, forcing itself out of her tight chest and into the still morning air that had previously only carried the sound of their gasps of terror and delight. It was too much, to hear his name strangle from her own lips. It had seemed so real, so certain. She needed to know that he was with her, alive, breathing. Her hands grasped at the sides of his strong jaw and pulled his lips to hers without thought, without question, without fear of consequence. His lips were warm and rough, the taste of his salt tears glancing across her tongue. He tasted real, concrete, and her heart leapt at the irrefutable knowledge of his life. She pulled back and let out a soft shuddering sigh, "I thought I lost you."

"Oh God, Bones. Oh, God, don't ever go. Don't ever leave me." She could hear the tense heave of his breath being pushed from his chest, and she felt herself fall, felt the tumultuous emotions force their way to her solid surface. It was too much. He dove back to the haven of her neck, muffling his response. "Don't ever leave…" He whispered against the soft skin under the pink shell of her ear.

"I can't…" She never finished, couldn't finish. What couldn't she do? She couldn't leave him or she couldn't stay? She wasn't sure, but in that moment in didn't matter because the dam had broken. She was crying now, deep sorrowful tears of loss and jubilance. The shear oxymoronic nature of her emotional state bewildered her, overwhelmed her, and she couldn't help but let her tears flow freely against the crown of his head. She gasped as he suddenly pulled her impossibly close to him, crushing her, and she could not help from returning the force of the embrace threefold, taking comfort in the intensity. She felt him move down her body, rubbing his face to her exposed chest, sucking lightly at her throat, her collarbone, dipping dangerously close to her breasts. She shuddered at the contact, her body succumbing to his soft ministrations. Before she could adjust to the overwhelming sensation of his lips on her skin, the shirt she was wearing was ripped over her head leaving her bare but for the scrap of cloth covering her most intimate place. She gasped at the coolness of the morning at it hit her barren breasts, she felt her nipples tense into hard peaks and she whimpered lightly at the loss of his heat. But soon enough he was coming back to her, his lips running over her taunt peaks, his hands gripping brutally at her sides. He pulled her nipple deeply into the wet warmth of his mouth and sucked hard at the soft, puckering flesh.

"Booth…" her sigh was long, deep, pulled from somewhere inside, some uncharted region of her unconscious mind. Her greedy hands pulled his head closer to her breasts as she thrust her hips forward to his firm abdomen, her legs wrapping reflexively around his waist, anchoring her to him. He leaned back, suckling fiercely at her breast, hands running in deep circles on her back, pulling her up with him. She was suspended on the tops of his strong thighs, the iron of his arms supporting her lax weight. Her hips settled into the cradle of his, her warm apex pressing into his stiffened length, a barrier of cotton panties and sweats being ground away between them. Her keening moan echoed through the room as Brennan struggled to get closer. She heard Booth hiss sharply and realized that her fingernails were digging shallow trenches into his back. She didn't care and it was evident in the sharp upward thrust of his hips that Booth didn't either. She felt Booth's mouth still in the valley between her full breasts, deep breaths warming her chest then cooling in their absence.

"Bones…I need…" She could feel the wetness of his tears against the tender undersides of her breasts. "I need to have you. I need this."

That was all he needed to say. Brennan rocked her hips against his and pushed him backwards into the tangle of sheets, eliciting another sharp hiss from her tortured partner. She sat up, quickly pushing his shirt off of his sweat soaked body, evidence of the fear and passion they were both dueling. She let her delicate, precise finger run down his face, over his closed eyes, across his parted lips, his strong jaw. Her hands splayed over his tensed shoulders, letting her fingers dig into the muscle with skill. He moaned low and deep with relief. Letting her palms slip down further, she skittered over his pectorals, stopping briefly to run her nails gently over his nipple, a sharp intake of breath signaling that she was on the right track. She danced about the ribs letting them lead her to his defined stomach, relishing the feel of the muscles contracting and releasing in waves of agonizing pleasure. This was as much for her as it was for him. She was touching him to communicate, to make a connection, to reassure him that she was with him and he with her.

Her fingers skimmed the edge of the fabric that divided his exposed skin from that which was still hidden. With a sure hand, she brushed down the length of his pubic extension, pulling down the jersey knit cotton on its way. He tensed slightly as she removed his sweats and boxers in a single long, slow pull, and it was his turn to shudder and contract at the cool rush of air. She let out a soft gasp as she watched his erection bounce free of the supple fabric and settle against his stomach. She slid quickly up his body, her lips returning to his with such force that it nearly winded her. He gave as good as he got, he demanded entrance to her mouth, running along her pearled teeth, along the warm spun sugar sponge of her tongue. She returned the fervor, drinking in the taste of him as if he were a life giving elixir.

His hands were on her hips again, urging her to grind against his now bare member. She let out a soft moan against his mouth, relishing in the way she could feel the hum reverberate through his lips. The soft damp cloth felt as if it were wall keeping them from what they both wanted most, and before she could even comprehend removing the soaking fabric his hands moved to push the crotch of her panties aside.

"Oh, God. Bones…" A strangled moan spilled from Booth's lips as he felt her slick, burning heat slid against his rigid cock. Brennan's fingers dug into his trapezius, clenching at the firm cylinder of muscle, as the head of his cock ran the length of her moist slit before butting into her throbbing clit. The feeling was inexpressible and she felt her body begin to shudder spasmodically as they continued their slippery smooth movements against each other's sex. She could feel her abdomen clenching and releasing in time with the soft glide of him. She was taken aback as the spongy head of his warm cock delved shallowly at her entrance. Booth's voice echoed softly in her ear, "Oh, God, please let me have this. Please let me have her."

"Booth, please." She didn't know then if she were pleading for her own sanity or his, all she knew was the feel of his length pushing slowly, deeply inside her, as if he were taking every moment and savoring it. She felt full, complete as his cock seated itself fully inside her, his hands pulling her hips down on his, the soft scratch of her panties grinding against her slit and the base of his erection. She reclined against his firm thighs, which were propped up in order to give his thrusting cock the best possible angle and trajectory. She reached behind her and allowed her hands glide up his shins, down his thighs, settling on the firm muscle for stability as Booth lifted his hips from the bed and began a steady rhythm within her. "Ohhhh…Booth…harder…please. Show me…show me that you are here."

Booths thrusts became strong and timed, and Brennan could feel her toes curl into the sheets, her toes gripping the silky cloth as he reached the very end of her. Her breath was coming in hard pants as his cock brushed past the bud hidden deep within her channel, shocks of pleasure coursing through her at every encounter. She felt Booth's hands clamp onto her hips as he quickly lifted her from him, the tip of his cock nearly vanishing from her warm sheath. Her grunt of dismay at the loss morphed into a moan of pleasure as he allowed his tip to gently circle her opening before being plunged back into her silken glove. Her body convulsed wildly then, her mouth opening and closing without sound as she felt her release rip through her. Her body shook and shivered atop his as she thrust herself forward to clasp his face between her hands, her lips crushing down on his in a soul searing kiss as she rode out the wave of her orgasm.

Before she could recover Booth deftly flipped her to her back, his body pinning her to the sheets, his cock still seated to the hilt within her. As she looked up into his eyes she knew that his liberation was close, he would come, soon and hard. She pulled her shaking legs about his hips and tilted her own to allow for better access. Looking deeply into his onyx-eyes she said the four words that would be his undoing, "Finish, Booth. Take me."

"Bones…" His groan was low and long as he began to thrust wildly into her still clenching depths. His hard cock speared into her with such force that she felt the intense ball of pleasure return to her stomach. She could tell he was about to come when his lips attached themselves to the soft pulse of her neck, his back arching like a cats as he bent to continue the fierce pace of his thrusts. He sucked hard at her throat and she felt him still, the head of his cock pressing against the entrance of her womb. "Oh, God. Yes…"

He came into her with such force that she felt she might cry from the sensation; his hot warm seed spilling into her convulsing depths, the strong throb of his spent cock as her body unconsciously milked it for everything he had. She felt his full weight crash down on her, his tired shaking arms wrapping around her own shuddering frame. Their breaths coming out in great, rapid puffs. His head was still buried in her neck as he rolled them to their sides, his expended length slipping soundlessly from her. His firm legs tangled themselves in hers and his arms pulled her tight to his chest. For a moment, this moment, she felt calm, at ease. She allowed herself the burrow deeper into his embrace, lying her head gently against his left pectoral, the faint, rapid thumping of his heart lulling her into a trance.

They lay their, quietly listening to the other's breath slow, taking comfort in the soft slid of hands along bodies. Brennan had never felt so at peace, so secure in the knowledge of her safety and the safety of everything she held dear. She drifted into a deep senseless sleep against Booth's cooling chest just as the dawn broke.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

He hadn't slept so well in what had seemed like ages. The dull throbbing headache that had been his constant companion over the past few weeks had disappeared and the ache in his muscles had gone from acute to bearable. He stretched languidly out, allowing the soft sheets to brush across his naked body, savoring the warmth of the fabric cocoon that encased him. His stretching arm brushed against something warm and firm. He allowed his hands to blindly trace the mass knowing instantly that it was the soft curves of a sleeping woman. Turning to his side his newly opened eyes confirmed what his body already knew, it was Bones.

It hadn't been a dream, she had been with him last night when he had broken into a thousand tiny pieces and he had succumbed to the fantasy that had been plaguing him. He had taken her to bed, held her as she sobbed, then made love to her in the early morning hours, and while he knew he should feel shame and regret, all he could muster was thankfulness. He was thankful that her supple body was curled towards him, her hand lightly coiled under her cheek, her soft sleepy breaths coming, even and timed. He was thankful that she was alive; that she was the one he had woken up next to, because he finally realized what his subconscious had known all along, it was her and no one else. He could never be with anyone else.

He propped himself up on his elbow and allowed his fingers to brush lightly over her resting face. She unconsciously drew closer to his touch, her cheek nuzzling into the cup of his hand. She was so calm, so peaceful, and he knew that she hadn't looked this content in months. Glancing at the clock, he realized that he needed to get home. He needed to be at work soon and the day loomed before him with the knowledge of what must happen. He needed to kill Broadsky. Booth needed to eliminate the rogue sniper before his aim was fixed on the most precious target, on Bones.

Booth gently slid from the bed, his body protesting as he left the warmth. He wanted nothing else but to stay there with her. To devour and cherish her all over again, to not think about the day to come. The impending battle between Broadsky, the talk he knew that he must now have with Hannah. In all truthfulness, he never thought he would have to have a conversation like the one he would soon be engaging in. He knew he was a decent man, flawed like anyone else, and he never imagined that he would hurt someone he cared for in this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and Booth could no longer deny that he wanted Bones. It would be painful, but it would be necessary.

Grabbing his boxers from the floor, Booth chose to leave the sweats where they lay. He padded into the living room to retrieve his suit pants and shirt. He would be back for Bones, they would have to talk too, but right now he couldn't muster the will to wake her. He let her dream quietly in the bedroom as he slipped from the apartment. His mission was what mattered now. Get Broadsky, protect Bones and the rest of his friends, and hopefully move steadily towards the future. He knew the truth of things now, knew that he couldn't live without her, and he was ready to try again. Last night had been the evidence of his need, and Booth had always trusted evidence.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry that it took so long to post! It has been crazy. I want to thank everyone for their positive and insightful reviews. We're not out of the woods yet, there is much to come and I hope that you're willing to stick with me through this journey. Please review and tell me what you think. Your comments keep this story alive!


	6. Chapter 6: Precious by Depeche Mode

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **I am soooooo sorry about the long wait! I have been running fundraisers with the club I advise, finishing a final for class, and this weekend was my anniversary! The cabin we rented promised internet and I was ready to post Friday when we got there, but alas, they lied! Thank you to everyone who is favoriting and following this story, I am so thrilled when I get your feedback on the story! Please stay with me…only a few chapters left, I promise! Please read and review if you're still reading!

**Chapter 5: Precious**

(Song featured in in S1:E10 The Woman in the Airport)

Precious and fragile things

Need special handling

My God what have we done to you

We always tried to share

The tenderest of care

Now look what we have put you through

Things get damaged

Things get broken

I thought we'd manage

But words left unspoken

Left us so brittle

There was so little left to give

Angels with silver wings

Shouldn't know suffering

I wish I could take the pain for you

If God has a master plan

That only He understands

I hope it's your eyes He's seeing through

Things get damaged

Things get broken

I thought we'd manage

But words left unspoken

Left us so brittle

There was so little left to give

I pray you learn to trust

Have faith in both of us

And keep room in your hearts for two

Things get damaged

Things get broken

I thought we'd manage

But words left unspoken

Left us so brittle

There was so little left to give

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan stared at the Leishenger's bones without really seeing them. She leaned heavily on the table, skull in hand, inspecting it from every angle, and still found nothing. She knew that she needed to stay focused, needed to keep up her analysis until the bones spoke to her, told her some secret of Broadsky's weakness. Yet, she couldn't help but find her attention divided. She had woken up in her bed alone again. She had run her hand against the soft indent in the sheets next to her to find them cold, stale, and she knew that he was gone. She had spent the morning cursing herself for being so foolish, for allowing this to happen, for being weak. How could she have asked him to come to her bed? How could she have allowed him to kiss and touch her, and for her to respond likewise? How could she be such an utter failure in what she did best, compartmentalizing?

She wasn't surprised that he left, she knew that he would, just as she knew he probably felt intense shame for their act. She couldn't stand the thought that something that had felt so beautiful, so right, had been wrong. She seemed to find herself in this situation often these days, her acting on illogical and dangerous emotions and proving her hypothesis that this spontaneity would only bring pain. Now this time it wasn't just a drunken mistake, it was tantamount to adultery. She had participated in a sexual act with a man who was engaged. While she did not place much credence on the institution of marriage, her own code of ethics prevented her from finding their act to be acceptable under the circumstances. She was bewildered by her inability to control herself where Booth was concerned, and if there was one thing that Dr. Temperance Brennan abhorred, it was feeling as if she did not have control.

"OK, you've been staring at Leishenger's skull for a really long time." Brennan startled at Angela's voice, her friends concerned tone pulling her from her reverie. "Trying to get that thing to talk to you?" Just like Angela, attempting to alleviate any tense atmosphere with her wide, brilliant smile.

"Are you being metaphoric?" Brennan's face contorted in confusion. Her mind was still on bones, fractal patterns, Booth, and her own emotional ineptitudes.

"No, I was just trying to lighten the mood." Angela clarified awkwardly, her attempt at humor falling on deaf ears. "Didn't work."

"The mastoid process is generally not a target in close quarter combat. Perhaps I should exam it microscopically." 'That's right,' Brennan thought, 'bring yourself back to the now, back to the challenge at hand.'

"You told me that an hour ago." Angela stated bluntly, and Brennan realized that her friend was correct. She was making no progress, she was being unproductive and unfocused in this situation was deadly. Angela wasn't done, she knew that Brennan's head needed to be in the game, knew that they couldn't afford to have her off in La-La-Land. "What is going on? I mean…is this about Vincent?"

"Yes." Brennan straightened and set the skull back down on the softly illuminated table. Angela nodded in agreement, a soft 'Yeah...' rushing from her lips, and Brennan couldn't help but think she was deceiving her. How could she tell Angela what was truly bothering her, what was clawing at her emotions so violently? Angela was her closest friend, her only true confidant. Brennan took a deep, centering breath. "And…" Angela's face snapped back to hers, perplexed brown eyes waiting for her to continue. "I…"

"What, Bren? What's wrong?" Brennan looked into her friend's eyes, seeing concern there she turned quickly away.

"I asked Booth to my bed last night." She said quietly, her fingers gently skittering over the knobby contours of Leishenger's finger. She heard a soft gasp and could see her friend's shocked face in her mind's eye. "Why...why aren't you saying anything."

"Because…I don't want to yell 'hallelujah' so close to losing Vincent!" Brennan's heart sank, her friend was obviously not realizing the magnitude of she and Booth's folly, wasn't taking into account all of the landmines that this path contained. Still, she felt the need to justify her actions, to make the act seem permissible in some vague sense.

"I think we did it because of Vincent." She confessed quietly, he head rising softly to look into her friends sparkling eyes. Angela's optimism was metaphorically killing her.

"Wait. Whoa…" Angela shook her head from her friends gaze, ignoring the pained look Brennan was casting her. "What exactly happened when you two…crawled into bed together?"

Brennan turned her gaze again, red hot embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She was not a prude, she talked freely of intercourse and gratification. This shame had purpose, she had broken her own moral code. Angela caught the flush of her cheeks and interpreted it incorrectly. Her bright smile grew as her excitement swelled. A hurried Hodgins interrupted the moment; he tromped into the room in a flurry.

"I got the GC mass spec results back on the bullet that killed Vincent." He was reaching for the computer keyboard, eager to share his discovery, when Angela's firm voice rang out, disbelief still written on her face.

"Honey, no. Not right now! I'm sorry. I love you, but go tell Cam." Hodgins look of bewildered confusion mirrored his paralysis and Angela found herself barking a more fervent command. "Go—away!"

He started to move, but stopped at the door, turning and trying to decide if he should insist on their attention. Angela sensed his protest and made her stance on the topic very clear. "Away!" Hodgins huffed as he turned around, rushing to share his news with someone who would appreciate it. After the entomologist had disappeared around the corner, Angela turned her gaze back on Brennan's shrinking body, finally taking in her uncertain and defeated demeanor.

"Don't you…don't you think we should hear what he found. It could be very useful to the case and improve our chances of finding Broadsk…"

"No. I need to know what's going on with you." Angela made her way around the table to stand next to her friend. "You would think that after what you just told me you'd be dancing on this table…or your equivalent of excitement. Why are you so…so bummed? This is great."

"No it's not, Angela." Brennan turned her back to her friend. "Its not great, its not even ok. I effectively had an affair with someone else's fiancé. That isn't great, it's just…amoral."

"Honey, stop. You can't beat your self up over that." Angela placed a firm reassuring hand on her friends shoulder and she could feel the rock hard tenseness of the muscles there. "I know…I know it's not ideal, but you and Booth…you guys belong together. Sure, I feel sorry for Hannah, she isn't a bad person, but you and Booth…that's epic. That's meant to be and it was only a matter of time before you two figured out what everyone else already knows."

"He left." The hushed words left her lips and hung in the air. "He…was gone before I woke up."

"Bren, that doesn't mean…" Angela started, just to feel Brennan pull violently away from her embrace.

"Yes, it does, Angela. You know Booth…I know Booth…he couldn't be satisfied with the outcome of last night." Brennan's voice was rising, her arms crossing protectively over her chest. "He…he sinned…he broke a promise…he left because he is ashamed. As ashamed as I am."

"Whoa, Sweetie, hold up. I think your overanalyzing this. Sure, I don't think he is proud of that aspect, I'm sure. But after last night, after you two finally, after all these years, were together. I don't think that happened by accident, Bren. He couldn't turn away from that, I'm sure of it." How could Angela make her see, convince her that things may just turn out right for once.

"He did the first time…" Brennan's voice was barely a whisper.

"What?" Angela's mouth formed a light 'O' of surprise. "What do you mean the first time, Brennan?"

"The first time…the first time we were together. He…" Brennan swallowed the hard lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry, not there, not at her work, her one escape. She knew that she wasn't being completely honest with Angela, but she also knew that she wasn't technically lying. Booth may not have physically left her then, but he had given his heart back to Hannah. The fact that he hadn't remembered their encounter didn't need to factor into this. "He went back to Hannah."

"Oh my God. Bren, you…you were with him after...?" Angela's hand came to her mouth. "That explains…explains why you were so…so…"

"Weird. I know." Brennan was slowly regaining her composure. She quickly cataloged her feelings, readying them for the files of her mind. Shame, for the act. Fear, for the outcome. Guilt, for misleading her best friend. Anger, at herself. Flight…flight, she wanted to run. "You see now why the situation is not as desirable as one would hope."

"Bren…" Angela stiffened at the change in her friend's tone. She had heard true emotion and conflict, now she was only cold and clinical.

"Angela, I need to get back to Leishenger's bones." Brennan said stiffly. "I would appreciate it if you didn't reveal what I told you today."

"Sweetie…" Angela started her once smiling lips pulled into a shallow frown.

"To anyone, Angela." Brennan said pointedly, then turned away from her friend, resuming her examination of the skull. Angela had no words. She didn't know how she could help her friend dig up from this hole she was in. She knew her friend, and real fear grabbed ahold of her as she realized that Brennan might act irrationally, might take matters into her own hands, might run. If Booth really had rejected her, twice, then Brennan was far from fine, and Angela shuddered to think how that might play out. She turned from the anthropologist, making her way slowly to the exit. Suddenly she stopped and turned to Brennan one last time.

"Just don't…don't do anything too…too crazy, Bren. Just wait. Tell me you'll wait." She saw Brennan's shoulders tense, but her eyes remained fixed on the skull in her hand.

"Goodbye, Angela." The words scared Angela more than anything else. Defeated, she left Brennan to her bones.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth had watched as they roughly shoved Broadsky's head down and into the squad car, his leg still bleeding, no one caring because they all knew what a sick bastard he really was. Still, it had been close, too close. If Hodgins hadn't called him to relay the news that Jacob's right hand was broken, Booth could have most definitely been a dead man. He could have left this world as quickly as he came into it, and Broadsky would still be out there enacting his twisted concept of justice.

Today had been a whirlwind, physically and emotionally. He had finally had a good nights sleep, well, at least as good as it had been in weeks. He had woken up with Bones in his arms, her soft breath warm on his cheek, her silky hair brushing his forearm, and everything had felt perfect, right. He left that morning with purpose; kill Broadsky, protect Bones and everyone else that mattered to him. He also left that morning knowing that he would have to tell someone he cared about and who cared for him that the life they were planning together was a sham. It killed him to know that he was going to crush the girl who had followed him halfway across the world, had taken a job she hated, had broken her rules on marriage for him. He ached, knowing that he would do this to someone who didn't deserve to be hurt in that way, whose only crime was loving and trusting him. Yet, he knew that he couldn't live in a lie any longer, couldn't pretend that he wasn't hopelessly in love with another.

As he walked heavily to his apartment, the weight of the day was still bearing down on the breadth of his shoulders. He planned to wash up and go back to Bones' apartment. They needed to talk after last night, so much had been left unsaid and the air needed clearing. He just hoped she would be ready to talk. He could wait for her, for eternity if he had to, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

It was these thoughts that were rattling around in his head when he came to the door of his apartment. Even weary he was alert, and when he tried the doorknob to find it unlocked he was instantly on guard. No one was supposed to be here, and he irrationally thought for a moment that when he opened the door he would see Broadsky sitting on his couch, looking down at him from the barrel of a gun. Booth pulled his 9mm from its holster and let out a steadying breath before kicking the door open, better to surprise then be surprised.

However, if Booth was expecting another sniper in the dark, he was sorely mistaken. He lowered his weapon as he took in the scene before him. Boxes littered the floor, some sealed shut with brown packing tape, others open and bursting with newspaper. It took him only seconds to notice that all of Hannah's trinkets, bobbles, and kitsch were cleared from the living room. In the middle of the chaos sat Hannah, clad in a pair of worn yoga pants and an old ratty UC Santa Cruz T-shirt, her blond hair bound up in a haphazard ponytail, her young face free of makeup and lined with sadness.

Re-holstering his gun, he took a tentative step inside the brave new world of his apartment, confusion etched into his handsome features. Her head turned sharply at the sound of his steps, her hands, which had been in the process of packing a pile of books into an open box, stilled. For a man who prided himself on knowing human nature and motivation, he was disappointed that he couldn't read her. She just stared at him blankly, waiting for him to say something.

"I…I thought you were in Virginia with your cousin." 'Maybe not the best thing to say,' he thought, and he knew he was right when he saw her eyes narrow a bit as she resumed packing. "I just mean, it's a long trip to make just to come back so soon. How was the drive?"

There was a long pause where his words seem to hang awkwardly in the air like a mist. She closed the box she had been working on, then stood, brushing her hands down her legs to remove any stray lint, her face still stone. Finally, she spoke.

"You didn't come home last night." The words came out tense, quiet, definitive.

"Well…I…the past day has been rough. Broadsky…I got him, just today, but…" His body slumped and he ran a large hand through his short hair. "…he killed Vincent yesterday, at the lab. I thought you were safe in Virginia, so I stayed with Bones, ya know, just in case."

"Just in case…" She trailed off, her eyes not meeting his.

"I was going to come home this morning, but it seemed like a better idea to go back to headquarters and get ready."

"Just in case." Anger. He heard anger in her voice and it startled him. He knew that she had every right to hate him, but she didn't know that yet, or did she?

"Look, Hannah, we need to talk. Obviously." He gestured to the sealed boxes littering the living room. "I'm so sorry, but…"

"But you slept with Temperance." She spit the words from her mouth, her eyes boring into his accusingly.

"I…" He started, but words seemed to escape him. He let his mouth close, his jaw working in tense circles, his eyes leaving hers to stare and some fixed spot on the floor.

"I always knew that there was something between you. No matter what you said, how you denied it." Her voice was cracking now, hurt and betrayal making its presence known. "And these past few months you've been so distant, so absent. I should have known the night I came back, but I just tried to convince myself that you were worried about Broadsky, worried about me."

"Hannah, I'm so sorry. I…last night…it…" He swallowed hard, his confession feeling bitter on his tongue. "…last night wasn't a mistake. I know that now."

"Last night? You slept with her again last night?" Hannah's blue eyes widened and her voice was tinged with disgust. Booth's eyes snapped up to hers. "You bastard!"

"Again? No, Hannah, last night was the first time. I can't say that I hadn't…hadn't been thinking about it…but last night was the first…the only…"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Seeley! I know. I know." The tears were running down her cheeks now, her head shaking violently back and forth.

"Hannah, I swear…" He didn't know why it was so important that she believe him, didn't know why he needed her to believe him. Maybe it was to spare her the embarrassment of being betrayed twice, or maybe it was to spare him the shame. He didn't know, but as he watched her turn swiftly away from him, leaving for the bedroom, he felt the need to follow her, to explain, even though the outcome would ultimately be the same whether she believed him or not. Their time together was over. He stood silently fixed to his spot, leaning heavily against the cool wall of the hallway. He had to admit he was shocked when Hannah re-entered the room as quickly as she had left it, something clutched in her tense hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me when I have proof right here." Hannah spit out as she threw the object at him. He braced himself for the blow and was surprised as it landed on his chest, light and whisper soft. He realized now that it was only a scrap of silk, black and lacy. He looked up at Hannah, bewilderment riddling his chocolate brown eyes. "You can't lie to me now, Seeley, not when I found those shoved under the couch."

"Hannah, I don't…" He was gripping the cloth, willing himself to understand the significance of it.

"Stop, Seeley! Just stop!" Her voice hitched high, her tears flowing freely down her face, neck, to be soaked up by the collar of her shirt. "Those aren't mine, those aren't mine…" She fell to the couch, burying her face in her delicate hands. "You were with her that night, weren't you. We hadn't even been apart for a few hours and you were with her. You couldn't even wait for me to leave."

Realization finally dawned on Booth and he chastised himself for not listening to his subconscious earlier. It hadn't been a dream. His fantasies had been memories, his mind trying to tell him the truth of his indiscretion. Suddenly everything made sense, the dreams, Bones' distance, what she had said to Bovitz that day in the interrogation room, on Valentine's Day finding her drunk and sobbing, he had just been too dense to listen. He had strung Hannah along for the ride without even knowing he was doing it. Shame rolled through him like a train on a track, tearing through the very center of him. "Oh, God, Hannah. I didn't…"

"Just stop denying it, Seeley! I'm not an idiot and it hurts more knowing that you think I am." Hannah screamed from behind her fingers. He did stop then, let the moment drag on, listening to the sobs of the woman he had thought he loved, listening to the pain he had caused her. After what seemed like years, he chose to speak again.

"You're right, Hannah, about everything. You're right." His voice was quiet, broken. "I…I was going to tell you when you came back from Virginia. I was going to break it off."

"I know." Her voice was a whisper. "And if you weren't, I was." Her hand motioned around the room to the boxes. "So what now?"

"I'll…I'll leave. Let you figure out what to do. Take as long as you need." His voice broke with disgrace.

"I'll be out in a few hours." She said quietly, and he nodded. He turned to leave, giving her the space she needed and deserved, but her voice halted him. "Seeley, I can't forgive you, but I also can't forgive myself."

"Hannah…"

"No, let me finish." She stood up, the tears drying in light salty streams on her cheeks. "I know…always known…that I was standing between you and her, even when we were back in Iraq. I've…I've always known and didn't want to believe it. I knew that this would happen, and I can't forgive myself for ignoring what I knew."

There was no resolution to be found here. He would always feel the guilt of betraying her, and she would never forgive herself for being blind to the truth. He gave her a light nod, and she turned away from him and back to her boxes, ready to pack up the last of herself from his life. The only sound heard in the quiet apartment after that was the rustling of newspaper and the click of the door.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan loaded the last of her suitcases into the back of her Prius. She had only packed necessities; clothes, work gear, a few relevant scientific journals and books, a handful of personal pictures and keepsakes. She had left right after finding out that Lieshenger's bones proved that Broadsky's right hand had been broken. She had given the information to Hodgins with instructions to relay it to Booth, quickly typed up a formal notification of leave of absence to Cam, leaving the date of her return as undetermined, and left it on her desk with her cellphone. She didn't want any links to her whereabouts once she left, no way for them to trace her. On her way home she picked up a pre-paid cell and a few AAA maps. She had a long drive ahead of her.

She glanced up once more at her apartment, wondering when she would come back again. The spontaneity of her decision gnawed at her, presenting itself as illogical and hasty, but she knew she couldn't stay. She needed to leave, to give herself time and space away from fresh death, away from questioning eyes, away from Booth and Hannah.

Climbing into the driver's side of the car, she felt what she could only describe as indecisiveness. Should she go? Was this really the best course of action? She scanned the contents of the vehicle, checking off items on her mental list. Her eyes landed on an open shoe box on the front seat next to her, the memento box. She hadn't been able to help it. Inside were journals, the conch shell toothbrush holder her father had not gotten for her in Hawaii, and pictures. A picture of Angela and Hodgins smiling at one another, not knowing that they were being watched. One of Cam barking orders at the interns, a comical look of exasperation on her face. Sweets and Daisy, all goofy smiles. A picture of the whole group, sans Booth, at the Founding Fathers the night that Angela and Hodgins had announced that they were having a baby. Why hadn't Booth been there on such a momentous occasion? 'Oh' Brennan thought bitterly, 'He had gone to see Hannah rather than come out with us.' She shook her head, willing the memory away. The last picture peaked out from under all the others. A picture of she and Booth sitting on their favorite bench next to their favorite coffee cart. Hodgins had snapped the photo one day, late in November, catching the two partners smiling at one another, right before they turned an annoyed gaze on him. She loved that picture, and she couldn't seem to convince herself not to bring it. She hated everything the little box represented, all the ephemeral ties she couldn't seem to cut to human emotions. Hated that she couldn't ignore the tugging of friendship and camaraderie when it suited her to do so.

Taking a deep breath, she tore her eyes from the tiny box and started the car. New Mexico was waiting. If she didn't dawdle too much, she could be there in a week. She had called Aurelio only an hour ago, telling him to look no further for a qualified forensic anthropologist, that she would fill the position. He had promised that everything would be taken care of when she got there, that she wouldn't have to worry about anything, and she had felt a slight thrill of excitement course through her at the thought of starting a new adventure. The paleo-indian tribes of the Blackwater Draw archeological preservation site were waiting to have their stories told. She chose to place her own story behind her, at least for now, and focus entirely on them. Entirely on a past that was not hers. She gripped the steering wheel and pulled swiftly away from the curb and into traffic, the late afternoon sun at her back.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth had gone to Brennan's apartment, but after standing at her door knocking for five minutes, he took the hint that she was not home. He had gone to the Founding Fathers, hoping to find her there with all the others, but no one had seen her since mid-day. Hodgins had explained that she had given him the information about Broadsky's right hand, but hadn't seen her since. He noticed Angela's tense avoidance of his gaze and figured that she knew something and wasn't going to tell him. He also knew that he couldn't confront her there, among all their friends and colleagues. He got the distinct impression that she didn't want him there and it sent a cold chill down his spine. Bones had told her, and if Angela's body language was anything to go on, the tale she heard definitely painted him as an asshole.

He sighed and went to the bar, ordered a tumbler of scotch and tried Bones' cell again. No answer. He should have never left without telling her, shouldn't have expected her to know what he felt, and now he knew why. This whole time he thought she was distancing herself from Hannah and their engagement, and what she was really doing was distancing herself from him. A few hours ago he thought this was the start of something, now he knew it was the complicated middle or, he feared, the end. Finishing his scotch he stood, signaled a goodbye to the table his friends were sitting at and headed for the door. He would check the Jeffersonian. She had to be there, it was the only explanation and it would be so Bones to bury herself in work.

When he entered the darkened lab of the Jeffersonian he felt a rush of panic. Looking up, a garish black tarp covered the vast skylight above, evidence of the tragedy which had happened a day earlier. He could still see stray shards of glass glimmering in the soft light, glittering reminders. He shook himself out of it and directed his pace to Bones' office. The lights were out and it seemed unlikely that anyone was in there. Pulling out his phone he tried to reach her again. He was surprised to here the faint ringing from behind the darkened office's door. It was then that real terror filled him. She wouldn't leave her phone, it was always on her. He steeled himself and thrust the door open, hoping to see her slumped on the desk asleep, fearing that a different scene would greet him.

Nothing. She wasn't in the office and it remained dark but for the glow of her cell screen proclaiming that she had missed calls. He let his body relax, relief tinged with bewilderment coursing through his body. Why would she have left her phone? Where was she?

"Seeley?" He couldn't help jumping at the sound of a voice echoing from the lab behind him. Steadying himself on the edge of Bones' desk, he tried to calm his racing heart.

"Jesus, Cam. What the hell?" He barked, turning quickly to see his friend moving cautiously toward him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you." She entered the office, flicking on the lights as she did. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm…I'm looking for Bones. I saw her this mor…earlier, but no one seems to know where she is." He sat down heavily on the couch, allowing himself to loosen his tie and rub the tense muscles at the back of his neck.

"I know. I've been worried too." Cam quietly walked toward the desk, her eyes searching the wide expanse in front of her. "I just got a text, but it was a blocked number. It was from Dr. Brennan. She said she left something for me on her desk."

"What? A blocked number?" Booth didn't want to think about the implications of that, didn't want to remind himself that Bones' personal cell lay only a few feet away from him on the desk. He stared tensely as he watched Cam pick up a manila envelope, 'Dr. Soroyan" scrawled on the front. He tried to remain calm as she read the message inside, but fear clenched tight in his stomach as he noted the formal Jeffersonian letterhead.

"What does it say?" He asked quietly, looking down at his hands now, unable to meet Cam's candid eyes.

"I…I don't understand." She began, her voice riddled with puzzlement. "It says that she is taking an immediate leave of absence, citing personal necessity. She…she doesn't list where she has gone…"

"No." Booth whispered lightly, trying to control the wave of nausea that was rising in his throat.

"She doesn't list when she'll be back, either." Cam said softly, and he could hear her footsteps coming slowly toward him. "She says that she doesn't want to be disturbed during this time, and that she will contact the lab when she is able to. Booth, what's going on?"

"I…I don't know. I don't know about anything anymore, Camille." He could hear it now, the crack in his voice. He just didn't know if it were pain or anger breaking through.

"Is this about…about Vincent? I know she was really upset by…"

"I'm sure that's part of it." He put the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubbed vigorously, as if when he removed them he'd realize he'd been dreaming again.

"Seeley, what do you mean 'part of it'? What happened?" Cam's eyes were a coco mixture of pity and annoyance. He hated that she had that ability, the one that was able to chastise and love at the same time. Cam was not a fool, and she was one of his closest friends.

"I…we…we were together…last night." He heard a shocked gust of air escape the woman next to him, "I think…this is my fault. I left."

"You what? You left? Jesus, Seeley, what is wrong with you?" Cam stood up sharply from the couch, her hands falling at her hips, the pity drained from her eyes leaving only exasperated disbelief. "What were you thinking? I told you, years ago, Seeley, that you couldn't do that to her. You knew this would happen…this…its just cruel! You're with Hannah."

"Not…not anymore, Cam. I didn't leave because I wanted to, I just…I just didn't tell her I was leaving. I couldn't…I didn't want to wake her, not after Vincent, not when she looked so…happy." Booth took a deep breath and stood to look Cam in the eyes. If he did anything tonight, it would be to convince at least one person that he was sincere, that he wasn't as big of a fuck up as he felt. "I love her, Cam. I know it seems like a dick move, but I love her. I broke up with Hannah today, and I was coming to talk to her about last night, to confess. I just…I just…"

"You're too late." Cam said softly and Booth nodded, his demeanor deflated and shamed. She came to him then and hugged him tightly to her, the hug of a friend who knows, who understands, but can't help. Sometimes a touch is all someone needs. "I know, Seeley. I know you love her. I'm…I'm so sorry."

"What am I going to do, Cam? What if I can't find her? I got to find her." His voice was muffled by her shoulder. Cam pulled away, her hands resting on Booth's shoulders, but her eyes staring straight into his.

"No, Seeley." His look of confusion told her that she needed to explain further. "You've already messed this up. You need to listen to her, to give her time. I don't think she'd listen to you even if you did find her. You need to be patient."

"I can't, Cam, I can't let her think…"

"You will. You must. When she is ready, she'll come back, but if you push too hard right now you'll really lose her. You need to let her think. She labeled it a 'leave of absence', Seeley, not a resignation. You need to be patient." She willed him to see the truth in her words, willed him to see that she was earnest.

"I don't want to, Cam." He said softly. "I want to explain…to make things right. I want to make sure she's safe."

"You gotta trust her, Seeley. You gotta trust that she's coming back." Cam separated herself from her friend and walked to the door. "Come on. I think you need another drink."

"Cam…"

"No, Seeley," she said firmly. "You need to listen to someone else for once. Come on. I wanted to have a night out anyway. Putting Vincent in the back of that hearse tonight, talking to his mother this morning, I need a friend. So do you. Time heals, Seeley."

He looked for a moment at Cam, standing there, hand outstretched, urging him to follow her when all he wanted to do was comb through everything in Bones office for any shred of a clue that may point him to her. He took a deep breath, glanced around the office, and for a moment Cam thought that he would turn her down. She was almost shocked when he grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly in his.

"Camille…" He said, as they walked through the dim lab.

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me 'Seeley'."

"Fine. Don't call me 'Camille'." She took comfort in their old joke, allowing herself to believe that the advice she gave really was for the best.

"She's going to come back…right?" He asked quietly, and Cam's heart broke for him. How could two people so oddly perfect for one another dance so frantically away from each other?

"I hope so, Booth." She sighed, "We need her."

"Yeah…" 'I need her most of all', he thought. He didn't know what he should do, search or wait, but right now he needed a drink, needed to think. 'How could things get so royally fucked up? How could I mess everything up?' She was the one area of his life he had always been so careful about, and in a matter of hours he had ruined everything. Cam squeezed his hand tighter and he took comfort in his friend's reassurance, for what it was worth. They exited the building and made their way back to the Founding Fathers.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note: **You still with me? Please say you are! I know I was too long in updating, but this weekend, my anniversary, no internet, it was a whirlwind. Please read and review so I know you're still out there!


	7. Chap 7: When the Pain Dies Down

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **I know it has been too long, and I am profoundly sorry. October is a month of birthdays, holidays, and the downward spiral of endless grading and monotony that comes with teaching! November is a much calmer month, I promise. Plus, only a chapter or two until we hit our resolution. I want to thank all of the wonderful reviewers that are so diligent after every post: **Michele, Linda, IHEARTSEELEYJBOOTH, Covalent Bond, Bleed Like Me, Excellentdriver, sweetmaj010, Rainbowong, manue, biba75, Casket4mytears, jmbatt, jsboneslover, Dyna63, Stefmarie06, drjamband, temperancedeschanel, yatobu, boothiebabe**, the countless **guests** that have come across my story, and everyone else favoriting and following. You keep me writing! Thank you for that…

**Chapter 5: When the Pain Dies Down**

(Song featured in in S4:E13 Hero in the Hold)

It's a change

that reaches down and suddenly lifts you,

At the end

of a rainy day when you sat alone and cried.

It's a sign

that lets you know there is a life awaiting,

The day

you make your peace with the love in you that died.

When the pain dies down

And the dam becomes a river.

The fire burns out under the rain.

Can you feel it now?

It's gone from you forever.

Fading out under the rain.

Like a train,

That takes its time pulling out of the station.

It's a dream

that comforts you in the middle of the night.

It's a song

that carries you to a better emotion.

And now,

Now you know it's going to be alright.

When the pain dies down,

And the dam becomes a river.

The fire burns out under the rain.

Can you hear me now?

A simple conversation

Fading out under the rain.

The past is there behind you

and nothing is forever.

Dancing on the river again

da da da da da da

la da da da da

la da da da da da dum

la da da da da da daa

When the pain dies down,

And the dam becomes a river.

The fire burns out under the rain

Can you feel it now?

It's gone from you forever

Fading out turning away.

When the pain dies down...

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

She had been there little over a month now and as the severe New Mexico sun beat down on her bare shoulders and cotton covered back, Brennan gently brushed the hard compacted dirt from another shattered skull. It was part of the sixth skeleton she and Aurelio had unearthed from the deep pit found in the arroyo where two mountains meet to make up the vast expanse of Blackwater Draw. To be completely accurate, it was the third partial skeleton, only three had been completed so far. The cavity held hundreds, if not thousands, of partial skeletons, more than she felt she could ever release from their tomb of mineral and sand, but so far these six had been the most intact. What was perplexing her above all else was the variance in the age of the bones. Some were tens of thousands of years old, others barely reaching more than a thousand. Male and female, young and old, no pattern seemed to emerge in her mind. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to put her finger on the significance of this place, of this spot. Why was there such a differentiation in bone age? Why were there so many sets of remains? Why was there no perceivable correlation between the age and gender of the bones?

She sighed. The day was young and there would undoubtedly be another spelunking expedition down to the depths of the pit, but now she focused only on the fragmented skull at hand. Same ethnic markers as the last five, most likely female due to the narrow mandible, near full eruption of wisdom teeth placing her between the ages of 18 to 24, and suffering from a violent encounter with the jagged rocks peppering the bottom of the deep quarry. Like the rest, the blunt drop was not the cause of death, but evidence of post-mortem trauma. Who was this woman? Young by modern standards, she was a middle aged woman for her time, but certainly not old. Why was she interred here of all places?

'Interred…' Brennan let the word roll around in the back of her mind where it stuck like sap to a tree. What was the significance of the word? Why wouldn't it leave her? 'Interred…'

"Hoping that it will speak to you?" Brennan jerked her eyes away from the yellowed remains, a deep baritone voice pulling her out of her reverie. Aurelio smiled at her from across the field table, his black hair shining an almost imperceptible blue in the unforgiving sun. Regardless of the heat, he never seemed to look as wilted as Brennan knew she must. His raw cotton shirt clung to his deeply bronzed skin, his black eyes should have been hard, but echoed of kindness instead. Dr. Aurelio Castaneda, archeologist and director of the Blackwater Draw Preservation site, was a gentle and empathic man, and Brennan knew this first hand.

"That would be highly unlikely, Aurelio." Brennan replied as she set the grimy skull back down on the table and wiped tiny salty beads of sweat from her brow with her forearm. "However, if you are speaking metaphorically, then yes. Female, 18 to 23, dead prior to the fall."

"God, your good Temperance." He laughed as he pulled a stool up to the edge of the table, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "Your good, but we still don't know why. It seems to be driving me mad. Why so many bodies? What is the significance, the motivation, the reason?" He shook his head lightly from side to side, mild frustration creasing his brow.

"The answer to that question seems to be one more readily answered through your profession than mine." Brennan quickly removed her latex gloves and threw them haphazardly into the waste bin.

"Don't I know it?" He ran his thick fingers through the dark threads of his scalp. Brennan knew what this dig meant to him. This was his first big find; the stuff careers were built upon. While she was there only for an escape, he was there to change history and to make his name in it. She realized then that if anyone deserved recognition, it was Aurelio. She wanted him to find the success he was so obviously warranted. Since she had come to Portales he had been a pillar of support.

Somewhere along her drive she had realized that she did not want her car with her, too many ways to connect her to it. She had stored it in a private rental lot on the border of Virginia and Tennessee. Opting to send her belongings ahead of her, she had completed her journey by bus and train, turning the anticipated 28 hour drive into a two week long meandering through the south and south west. When she had arrived at the bus station in Portales, rumpled and travel worn, he had been there to pick her up; all smiles and enthusiasm, no questions about the why of her journey. He took her to a small ranch on the outskirts of town, the vacation home of a friend who was traveling through Europe for an extended amount of time. A company truck was waiting for her use in the driveway, her luggage was stacked neatly in the bedroom, a dinner of local handmade pablano chili and cheese tamales warming in the oven. He had given her a slight hug, told her that she could come into the preserve whenever she was ready to start work, and then he was gone. She thought she would feel lonely in the small, ranch style home, hundreds of miles away from everyone she had come to care for, but instead she had felt relief. As if she hadn't been able to breath right for months and suddenly her lungs chose to cooperate with her.

She had gone into work the next day, hair pulled back into a sloppy bun, wearing worn hiking boots she hadn't used since Indonesia. She was there to do a job, and she seemed to take the responsibility in earnest. She had worked fifteen hours a day, six days a week for the past month, and showed no signs of slowing. Still, she was aware that her maddening pace seemed to alarm her friend. Aurelio was always stealing sidelong glances at her, a look of worry tensing his darkly handsome features. She knew he thought she was pushing herself too hard, but she chose to look at it as an opportunity to model aggressive work ethic and dedication to the job.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if his concern was well placed. She had been so tired lately, exhausted really, and when she would return to the ranch she would immediately fall into bed, sometimes not bothering to eat dinner. Sometimes she felt distracted, and in those moments her mind would wander to another time, another life where she took comfort in the memories of better times with friends, family. Try as she might, her subconscious always led her back to the Jeffersonian, to the smiling faces of her friends. To the thought of missing the birth of Angela and Hodgins' baby, to the comforting banter between her colleagues, to Booth…leaning against the doorframe of her office, announcing that they had a case. It all seemed so far away, like a pleasant dream that she wished to remain wrapped in, avoiding the harsh light of reality. Only when she returned to herself would she remember why she had even left in the first place, and while her mind screamed the logic of her departure, another part of her, the part someone as sentimental as Booth would call the heart, yearned for that life that seemed now lost. A part of her wanted to bury herself in those moments, inter herself in the recesses of the past.

'Inter…bury…' her mind whispered again, this time louder, but with little result. She needed to focus again, remove herself from reminiscence and settle in the now. Turning swiftly to Aurelio, she questioned, "Are we going back down?"

"That is why I came. We were planning another trip down the rabbit hole. Are you coming?" Aurelio was now standing, filling his stainless steel bottle from the large cooler of icy drinking water.

"Of course." She grabbed her gear, strapped on a utility belt of various tools, and slung her trip pack on her shoulder.

"Alright then. Lets go raise the dead, Tempe." Aurelio slung a friendly arm around her shoulder and led her to the yawning chasm in question.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Booth stared out the window of Bones' office, his mind plagued by yet another unsolved case. The squints were out in the lab, working as hard as they could, but morale was low since Angela had taken maternity leave, since Bones had left. He had been on edge and Cam had needed to talk to him more than once about his lack of patience with the interns. Truthfully, all he wanted was to lose himself in work, in the monotonous grind of motive and purpose, but he knew that he was off his game just as much as anyone else. The evidence just didn't seem to speak to him anymore and he felt as if he was losing his sixth sense.

Nothing seemed right without her there. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't her absence that was causing him to falter, that it was the stress of breaking in the interns, the ever expanding caseload that never seemed to show signs of diminishing, his still fresh breakup, but no. None of these elements compared to the hole she left in him, the gaping pit in his heart that seemed to engulf more than it ever filled.

He had been patient, for at least a week, then he sent out an APB on Bones' car, hoping to find her with it. But he knew that she was too smart for that, and when the trail led him to a covered parking garage that leased by the year, he knew that he wasn't going to get very far. He had traced her credit cards, her bank account, but it had remained untouched since the day she left, a massive withdrawal of over 5,000 dollars hinting to him that she didn't wish to be found. He had stopped then, Cam's warning echoing in his mind, and forced himself into a waiting state. He resumed work, pasted a smile to his face, and tried to move forward. Still, he felt like a bear in a trap, clawing desperately and the biting teeth in vain.

"Hey, how ya doin', G-man?" Hodgins' voice sounded tentatively through the relatively quiet office. Booth knew that Jack had been trying to smooth things over between him and Angela, but he figured that it was difficult seeing as Angela refused to talk to him about Bones. The last time he had seen her was at the hospital when Michael had come squalling into this world. She had forced a smile, accepted his hug and congratulations, the teddy bear Parker had picked out, then politely dismissed him. She never returned his phone calls, and the one time he showed up at their door she had made Hodgins' send him packing, a look of friendly pity playing across Jack's face. He hadn't told Hodgins' anything about his nights with Bones', about Hannah figuring his multiple indiscretions out before he did, but something told him that Jack didn't think Booth capable of whatever it was Angela thought he did, and he took comfort in the entomologist's vote of confidence.

"Hey, Hodgins. You find any particulates on the clothes?" And just like that he was all business.

"Well, yes, but nothing very helpful, just time of death." Hodgins' leaned heavily against the doorframe and crossed his arms in front of him. He sighed, "But we knew that already."

"Yeah." Booth was quiet.

"Look, Booth. Its been a month since the baby was born…I think Angela and I could use some company. What do you say about coming over for dinner tonight?" Hodgins' head tilted, his blue eyes conveying sincerity.

"I don't know…last time Angela wasn't so happy to see me." Booth shifted his gaze uncertainly. He didn't know if he wanted to risk being turned away from the Hodgins-Montenegro hacienda as soon as he arrived.

"Yeah, I know…its just…" Hodgins shifted, squaring himself towards the larger man. "…it's been a month and a half since…since…"

"Since Bones left." Booth finished.

"Well, yeah, and Angela and I've been talking...and I think we need to hear your side of the story. She…we…just needed time to…process, ya know." Booth wanted to decline, didn't want to dredge up the events that had transpired between him and Bones. He didn't like sharing that part of himself, the part that had been too stupid to realize the truth, had betrayed those who were closest to him, the part of him that wouldn't admit that he was lost without her. Still, he wanted to talk to Angela, to know what she knew, to understand why Bones had left, even though he was pretty sure he already knew why. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed his friends.

"Um…then, yeah. I guess…I mean…that would be nice. I'd like that." Booth managed a half-hearted smile.

"That's great. I know this awesome Indian place that delivers. We could have some lamb masala, great naan, a couple of beers. I mean, we haven't had company other than Angela's dad in what seems like forever. Hey maybe we could even catch the game toni…" Jack's eyes lit up and he started in on an excited ramble.

"Whoa, slow down there, man." Booth chuckled lightly, his friend's excitement feeling almost contagious.

"Yeah, sorry. Been awhile…and with the baby…it'll be fun." Jack flashed a self-conscious smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

"When should I be over there?" It was almost four and Booth wanted to go home and shower up beforehand.

"Right…ummm…about six, six-fifteen? We still have to keep our nights pretty early. Michael can be pretty fussy in the evening." Booth didn't need to look at Hodgins to know the truth of the statement. He had spent many an evening rocking Parker to sleep just to have him wake up an hour later, demanding anything from food to a new diaper.

"Sounds good, I'll be there." Booth gave Hodgins a light punch to the shoulder. Hodgins nodded before turning to leave. Booth let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, one he felt he had been clutching for over a month.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

She had been halfway down the pit, focusing on the variation in the sedimentary layers when she noticed that all the lines had started to blur together. She could no longer distinguish the pink and tan hues that separated the centuries, and she had a vague feeling of alarm before everything went black despite the bright LED headlamp affixed to her forehead. She had felt her body slacken to dead weight, and heard the distant sound of Aurelio's concerned voice before completely falling into oblivion, letting the darkness of the chasm engulf her entirely.

She didn't know how long she had been out, but when her heavy lidded eyes finally forced themselves open again she was surrounded by a bright, sterile whiteness, a faint beep echoing into her ears. She had the vague sensation of being underwater, images blurred, sounds muted to dull thumps. She gasped for air, her chest burning at the sharp contact of atmosphere on lungs. Where was she? What were those sounds? She heard muffled voices around her and felt someone push lightly at her shoulders and she realized that she was struggling to sit up. The world slowly came into focus, the dark blob in front of her shaping itself into the form of a woman in light green scrubs.

"Ms. Brennan…Ms. Brennan, please…" The woman was struggling with her unruly body, trying to push her back onto what she now acknowledged as a hospital bed. Brennan's confusion was lessened, but she still had no idea why she was there in the first place. "Ms. Brennan, please, calm down."

"What…where…what is happening." Brennan couldn't help but struggle against the woman's firm hands. Even with the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the nurse over powered her easily, and Brennan finally succumbed to the soft pressure on her shoulders pushing her back into the mattress.

"Ms. Brennan, you need to remain calm. Your safe, your alright, you just need to calm down." Brennan took deep shuddering breaths as the room came into full focus. She was in the hospital, a heart monitor beeped next to her bed, an IV dripped clear liquid into the tube attached to her forearm, a nagging sensation ran horizontally across her back, from lung to lung. She had the where, the why still alluded her, however.

"I'm…I'm calm. Just, please, why am I here?" She forced the words to come out in a cool manner, but even she knew that she wasn't entirely successful.

"You were brought in a few hours ago, Ms. Brennan. You had an…episode at work." The nurse's nametag came into view, and although it took her a moment, she was finally able to make out the letters. Irene. Her name was Irene.

"I had…an episode. Please, elaborate." She hadn't even noticed, but her hand was reflexively clutching and releasing Irene's wrist, unconsciously taking comfort in her solidity.

"As far as I can tell, you were going down into a hole…"

"Yes, at the Blackwater Draw Pre…"

"Yeah, that's the one." Irene moved Brennan's had to the sheets before readjusting her pillows and checking the drip. "You were going down that hole and you just lost consciousness. It took them fifteen minutes to lift your deadweight out of there."

"My back hurts…and my head…" Brennan tentatively touched the gauze wrapping above her right eyebrow, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as her fingers made contact with the tender spot.

"I suppose it would! They damn near had to cut you out of that harness. It got itself wrapped up around your back, left a nasty bruise. The bump on your noggin there is from them pulling you up, too. Wacked you pretty good." Irene gave a light, chastising chuckle as she grasped Brennan's hand, taking it gently away from her head wound. "You eco-warriors are just crazy if you ask me. What the hell were you doing down there in your condition? You should know better!"

"I don't know what that means?" Brennan was confused now, and she wasn't sure if it was all due to the puffy contusion on her brow.

"Honey, I don't know which doctor you go to, but no one should be climbing into caves and such when they're going on three months pregnant. I don't know what it is with you Type A people, climbing into holes no person has any right to be in." Irene kept talking, the creamed coffee skin of her face moving, but Brennan had stopped listening. She couldn't have heard right…could she?

"I'm sorry…stop…" Irene's brown-green eyes widened and her restless hands stilled. Brennan adjusted herself into an upright position, taking what little control of the situation she could. "Please…stop…what do you mean? I'm not pregnant. I've just been tired lately, work and…"

"Ms. Brennan, I realize now that I may have been a bit hard to follow…" Irene's once jovial tone turned suddenly clinical, calm, and Brennan didn't like what the shift suggested. "…but you are most certainly pregnant, a little over two and half months, give or take."

The room was eerily silent, the sounds that remained seemed to echo through Brennan's ears: beep, beep, drip, drip. After a few moments, Irene made to speak again, but was interrupted by the deep sob tearing from Brennan's chest. She couldn't hold back, she couldn't dam herself up; Brennan was reduced to a quivering mound of weeping flesh. Irene took a seat next to her then, one hand holding Brennan's, the other rubbing her back gently. Brennan felt herself crumple into the side of the soft woman, allowing her tears to be soaked up by the starched green material of Irene's uniform.

"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry…so sorry…I didn't know, I thought you knew." Her voice was like honey, smooth and thick, and Brennan allowed it to wash over her, engulf her. She didn't know this woman, didn't know her life, her world, but she knew tenderness when she felt it. She may not have really known Irene, but right now she was more than willing to be comforted by her. The nurses long fingers ran down the back of hear head, through her hair, and an image of Brennan's mother comforting her after a particularly bad day at school flashed in her mind's eye. The image simultaneously comforted and agitated her; making her feel all at once like a child and a fragile woman. Irene's soft shushing and the gentle rocking motion lulled her. "Hush, Honey, hush. I know, its scary…its a scary, wonderful miracle, Honey. You'll see that, you will."

"How…how did this happen." She asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

"Oh, I think you know." Irene chuckled softly, sadly. Brennan allowed the days, weeks, months to play through her mind. She had never been regular and with all of the stress, the hurt, the confusion, she hadn't even noticed that her menstrual cycle had been off. It wasn't uncommon for women in stress to suppress the monthly biological function, but even if it hadn't been she wasn't sure she would have noticed, not with what life had been dishing out to her as of late.

"I can't…I can't do this…" She confessed, her mind whirling with the implications. This child was Booth's, it couldn't be anyone else's. This wasn't a child from some numbered test tube, devoid of emotion or meaning, this was the child of the one man who had hurt her so deeply she had to run nearly 2,000 miles away from everything to escape him. The man who hadn't wanted to be the father of her child, the man who had rejected her, left her. The man she loved as hopelessly as she felt now.

"Don't you say that, Honey. You can do this. I can tell just by looking at you, the way you fought me off. A mother needs strength, passion. Even though you feel like your breakin' now, you'll rise up. I know." Brennan pulled back from Irene's soft side to look the older woman in the eyes. There was a story there, the laugh lines in the corner told of great happiness, the frown lines delicately embracing her mouth told of great sadness. "I know what its like to be in this situation, I know how shocked you probably are. But you just wait, that baby is a miracle. God's gift to you, just like my daughter was for me."

Brennan was about to dispute her, tell her that there is no God and if there was he probably wouldn't have time to distribute fetuses on a case by case basis, but she couldn't muster the will to argue, couldn't twist this woman's kind words, her confession, with logic. Instead, Brennan just nodded before returning her head to the comfort of the woman's shoulder. She took comfort in their shared experience, in the fact that this woman would reveal so much of herself to ease Brennan's worries. She felt the pain die down, fade into the empty space between them.

The soft moment stretched on into minutes before Brennan quietly untangled herself from Irene's motherly embrace. She brushed the hair from her eyes, shuddering as her fingers lightly touched the bruise on her forehead. She looked up for a moment, letting Irene's picture jasper eyes connect with her own watered glass ones.

"I…thank you, Irene. I…" She looked away then, and she felt the strong walls she had so painstakingly constructed rise again. "…appreciate you kindness."

"It sounds like you needed a friend." Irene stood then, smoothing the stiff material of her scrubs down her front, little wet dots peppered the fabric wear Brennan's tears had soaked into the woman. "Least I could do until yours show up."

"No one will be showing up, Irene." Brennan said quietly, her hands toying with the plastic identification bracelet encircling her wrist. No one knew she was here, and truthfully, she liked it that way.

"Well, Dr. Castaneda has been here four the past four hours, pacing and waiting. Can't seem to go out the door without him asking about you." She smiled knowingly, and Brennan blushed and turned away. She knew that Aurelio had feelings for her, always had since their days at North Western. Even though she had tried her best to discourage him, he seemed to cling to the hope that someday she would come around. The clock next to her bed read 9:30PM and she knew that it had probably been a long day for her lovelorn friend.

"Please tell him to go home, that I am fine and he can rest now." Brennan sighed, allowing herself to finally relax into the now inclined mattress and pillows of the hospital bed.

"I'll do that. Your other friend, Ms. Montenegro, she said she'd be here in the morning to look after you. So just you rest easy, friends are coming…" Irene stopped as she saw Brennan go stiff, her blue eyes wide. "…you okay, Honey?"

"How did you…why…" She swallowed hard, fear gripping her abdomen and radiating up her already battered back. "Why was Angela contacted, how?

"Ms. Brennan, its standard protocol to get ahold of an unresponsive patient's emergency contact. Ms. Montenegro was listed on your insurance forms. We were required to contact her when you were admitted." Irene's face pulled back into the uncomfortable clinical mask she must have always used when talking business with patients.

"But…oh God, she knows where I am? She knows…" Brennan's face fell to her hands, as if she could black out this moment. She wasn't ready to see Angela, to explain.

"Yes, Honey, she knows." Irene's voice softened. "And she is very concerned. I spoke with her myself. She said she was catching the first flight out of DC, coming to get you."

"No…" It was a whisper.

"I don't know what your story is, Ms. Brennan, but you have a friend who is worried about you, relieved that you're alright, and coming for you." Irene took a deep breath, then softly, "That's a lot more than some of us have."

Brennan looked up then, catching the sadness in the kind woman's eyes. Suddenly, her problems seemed a bit petty, small. She had pushed those she loved away from her, why? Because she was scared. Irene didn't have the option to push anyone away, and Brennan knew that her only love came from her miracle daughter. Life had dealt Irene a hard hand, and it suddenly seemed as if Brennan had a flush.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

***Author's Note:** Almost to the finish line! One, maybe two more chapters to go. Hopefully you can stay with me long enough to finish. Please R & R and tell me what you think of this twist, although I am pretty sure that many of your saw it coming ;).


	8. Chap 8: No Envy No Fear by Joshua Radin

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **Finally, Thanksgiving break has arrived so I can sit down a write without the guilt of leaving work and school affairs unattended. I am so sorry that this update has taken so long, but to be honest, I was having a very difficult time writing it. You know that feeling where you know exactly what you want to have happen in a story, but you just can't find the right words, can't seem to get it on paper. Ugh…I just couldn't seem to phrase anything right! Now, I know I said only two more chapters, but I am going to amend that due to popular request and due to the ever-evolving nature of writing, and project that there are going to be about 2-4 chapters after this one. I doubt this story will make it past 10 chapters, but then again….ya never know!

On a different note, thank you all so much for your reviews! After the last chapter the story broke 200 reviews and I really can't thank you enough for all of your encouragement and comments. I absolutely love hearing from you all and I will try to be better about the updates! Thanks you so much and please read and review and tell me if the story is on the right track.

**Chapter 8: No Envy No Fear **

(Song featured in in S4:E11 Trouble in the Panhandle)

some are reaching few are there

wandering from a heroes chair

some are scared to fly so high

well this is how we have to try

have no envy and no fear

have no envy

no fear

brother brother we all see

your hiding out so painfully

see yourself come out to play

a lovers rain will wash away

your envy and your fear

so have no envy

no fear

when your sister turns to leave

only when she's most in need

take away the cause of pain

by showing her were all the same.

have no envy

no fear

have no envy

and no fear

every day we try to find

we search our hearts and our minds

the place we used to call our home

cant be found when were alone

so have no envy

no fear

have no envy

no fear

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

The plane ride had been miserable, the cab to the hospital not much better. Angela couldn't remember a time she had been more uncomfortable, except maybe child labor, but even that was starting to dim in comparison. She just needed to get to the hospital, to see Brennan, to make sure she was all right. She had left the house in a flurry, her suitcase hastily packed, the bottles of back-up breast milk counted and labeled in the fridge, the backup formula on the counter. Jack seemed as if he were about to pass out as she kissed his head and told him not to worry, that she'd be back in a day or two, just enough time to figure out what the hell was going on. She had taken a moment to check in on Michael's tiny sleeping form, and in that moment her heart seemed to crumple into little bits. It would be the first time she had been away from him, and if she were honest with herself, she would admit that it was too soon. She hadn't planned on leaving that boy's side until he was at least fifteen. Deep down, however, she knew that Jack would be fine for a day or two without her, and Michael would be just as she left him, full of milk and probably asleep. She didn't want to dwell too long on the thought of leaving her child, even for a second, but somehow she knew that she needed to be on the next plane out of DC.

She had barely noticed Booth standing in their kitchen, an air of tense confusion hovering around him. He had been there for only twenty minutes, enough time for the dispensing of pleasantries, to crack a beer, and insist on paying for the Indian delivery order that had come to the door. They hadn't even been able to discuss what was really on all of their minds, the ever-growing distance between them as colleagues and friends, when Angela's cellphone rang.

The woman on the phone had been very formal, Ms. Montenegro this and Ms. Montenegro that. Angela hadn't heard any of it, just the part about Brennan, a fall, and unconscious. She had hastily grabbed a pen and notepad, scribbled down the address of the Hospital, a told the nurse on the other line to expect her in the morning. That was all she needed. Brennan was hurt, unresponsive, and Angela needed to be by her friend's side. She hadn't told Jack where she was going, but slipped the now memorized piece of paper she had copied down into his hand. She kissed his stubbly cheek and had been out the door in seconds, before he could even utter a word.

Upon reflection, she may have been too hasty with her goodbyes and too thrifty with her instructions. She hoped to God Jack hadn't shown Booth that slip of paper. While she thought this whole distancing game Brennan was playing was stupid, she knew better than to involve Booth. If Brennan had wanted Booth to come he would have been her emergency contact, but seeing as he wasn't, she refused to let her own frustration over the situation betray her friend's confidence. Brennan had to be the one to come back to Booth, not dragged kicking and screaming back to DC by the lovesick FBI agent.

"Hi, I'm here to see Dr. Temperance Brennan," Angela smiled brightly at the hospital receptionist despite her exhaustion.

"You are?" The woman was obviously not ready for three-am pleasantries, and while it was annoying, Angela couldn't blame her. Still, something told her this woman had the benefit of caffeine coursing through her bloodstream.

"Angela Montenegro, I'm her emergency contact." Angela pulled her wallet from her purse and flashed her driver's license.

"Right. Stay here for a moment, I'll see if you can go in." Still no smile, but Angela was just happy the ball was rolling. Putting her wallet back into her purse, she started when she heard a deep voice from behind her.

"Did you say you were here to see Temperance?" Angela turned to see a pleasant eyeful of tall dark and handsome. Clad in worn jeans and a heather green linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, Mr. Exotic looked back at her, concern written across his copper hued features.

"Umm…a…yeah." It took Angela a moment to gather her bearings. 'I may be married with children, but I'm not blind.' She thought as she straightened from her tired slouched position and ran a self-conscious hand through her dark hair. 'What are you primping for? Down girl.' Still, old habits die hard.

"Thank God, I was starting to think I was the only one worried about her." He let out a tense breath and ran a thick hand over his scalp.

"Well, that makes two of us. I'm Angela Montenegro…Hodgins…I'm married…" Angela babbled on, noting that she was starting to feel as ridiculous as she must look. She cleared her throat, a gesture that seemed too foreign to the usually gregarious artist. "You are?"

"Dr. Caste…Aurelio. My name is Aurelio. I work with Temperance, we're…old friends." Angela noted how he shifted slightly, his eyes averting hers, and realized he was smitten, just not with her.

"Old friends. Huh, and here I thought I was going to tell you that." She smiled and made her way to the shiny plastic waiting room chairs. She needed a break. "So have you and Brennan been…working together long?" She ventured, trying to weasel any information about her friend's whereabouts for the past few months.

"Well, she's been her a little over a month. She is assisting me in a dig out on the Blackwater Draw Preserve, identifying remains, cause of death, that kind of thing." Aurelio took the seat next to Angela, and in doing so she noticed the tired lines creasing his handsome face. Even looking terrific she could tell he looked terrible. "She was going down for a routine expedition in the pit and then just…lost consciousness. It was…very sudden...terrifying, really."

"A pit, huh? That sounds like Bren." Angela shook her head slightly. "The passing out part, not so much. She's a pretty tough cookie."

"That's an understatement. She's been running circles around me and my crew all month, making us look like a bunch of white-glove pansies." Aurelio chuckled lightly and Angela noted the warmth she heard there, the tenderness. What was going on between these two? "Still, she's been working herself too hard. She barely sleeps, eats. It's like she's possessed."

"That definitely sounds right. When she's upset she goes in to manic overload and no one but Booth can…" Angela caught herself suddenly; her fatigue induced rambling revealing more than she had wanted. Her lips slammed shut, her gaze pulled from Aurelio's and focused on the K-Mart art lining the hospital walls.

"Upset? I mean…I knew it was odd that she accepted the position. I mean, the Draw isn't the mega-name that the Jeffersonian is, but I guess…I thought…" Aurelio leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. "…thought she might have wanted a change of pace."

"Well, she did…otherwise she wouldn't have been here. I'm sure this is just were she wanted to be right now." Angela couldn't help reaching out and patting the back of Aurelio's sunbaked hand with her own. 'Only Brennan would have two gorgeous guys picking splinters out of their ass's from pining,' she mused to herself.

"Ms. Montenegro. She's ready for you." The nurse had returned, visitor sticker in hand. She turned for a moment to Aurelio, pity written across her once firm features. "Dr. Castaneda, Dr. Brennan says that she really insists that you go home and rest. She'll be here a bit longer, but we will probably release her sometime in the afternoon and you'll be called then. We'll take care of her, we promise."

Aurelio smiled tightly and gave a slight nod as he lifted himself from the stiff chairs that Angela now realized he had been in all night. "You'll call as soon as she's ready?"

"Definitely. Go home and rest, Sir." She smiled, a smile probably only reserved for good-looking, worried men and most certainly not post-pregnancy travel worn women. Angela rolled her eyes and stood up as well.

"It was nice meeting you, Angela. Hopefully you can get her to slow down. God knows she won't listen to me." He smiled wearily and when Angela nodded her response, he turned to leave. Turning to the nurse, she picked up her small carry-on bag and gestured to the door.

"Lead the way." The nurses sweet side had turned instantly back to sourness as she turned curtly on her heal and headed through the double doors.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

"What was that about?" Booth was suspicious. One minute they had been talking Lamb Vinduloo, the next Angela was out the door with barely a word. He eyed the note in Hodgins' hand, the detective in him dying to know what the piece of paper said.

"I…I have no idea." Jack stood there, a look of pure shock on his face. Booth took a moment to revel in the scientist's confusion, it did happen often.

"Well, what do you have there?" 'That's it, Booth' he thought, 'sly…be real sly.'

"I…" Jack's mouth opened and closed reflexively, his wide blue gaze bouncing between his hand, Booth, and the door. "…what?"

"The note, Hodgins. What's it say?" Booth hoped that he didn't sound to desperate, but he knew this all had something to do with Bones, something to do with her whereabouts, and god help him, he didn't want to wrestle the damned piece of paper from Jack.

"The note?" Hodgins gaze turned to his balled fist, the colorful notepaper peaking through his fingers. "Right, the note." Hodgins began to unfold the paper. Booth was chomping at the bit. As if fate were ultimately against him however, a piercing cry emanated from the baby monitor on the counter. Everything stopped, Hodgins eyes grew wide, and Booth saw in them the real fear of a new father left for the first time alone with his child. He knew that look well; he'd seen it enough times in the mirror.

"I…Michael…I gotta go…" Jack didn't even wait for Booth's response; he just dashed up the stairs note in hand. Frustrated, Booth said down heavily on one of the bar stools that lined the kitchen island. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that this all had something to do with Bones. 'God, why did I leave?' he thought ruefully. He wasn't sure if any of this could have been avoided had he stayed with her that morning, but he knew he'd have answers, he would have had a chance to explain himself. That is what seemed to hurt the most, knowing that he had so much to say and being unable to do so. He wanted to corner her, keep her from running, force her to listen, to know what he felt for her, for them. The longer he had to wait the more he felt she was slipping away. Their chance seemed to be slipping through his fingers like fine Iraqi sand. He grasped at the grains, but all he could get were tiny bits, nothing real, nothing solid.

Booth reached across the granite island, grasping the bottle of bear he had left on the other side. He didn't know if Hodgins still wanted him here, but he was reluctant to leave knowing that there was a chance to find out anything about Bones' whereabouts. As he slid the cool brown glass across the countertop, he noted the pad of paper Angela had used. There was a deep impression of something where she had pressed the pen down, her frantic rush causing the pen nub to gouge at the paper. Booth's eyes widened in realization.

He got up quickly, beer forgotten in front of him. A mason jar next the phone held pencils, pens, markers, stray paintbrushes. He grabbed up the notepad and one of the pencils and began to softly rub the grey lead against the paper. 'I can't believe this is working.' Booth thought as letters and numbers yielded to his soft shading. After the entire pad had been darkened, he looked down to see what it had revealed: Roosevelt General Hospital, 42121 U.S. 70, Portales, N. Mexico. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he saw the single word scrawled next to the address, 'Fall?'

"Holy shit." The words came out of Booth's mouth a mixture of surprise and fear. He didn't have long to think about the implication of what he had found, as Jack's footsteps could be heard on the stairs accompanied by Michael's piteous wails. Booth quickly ripped the piece of paper from the pad and shoved it in his pocket.

"I think he's hungry…or wet…or…I don't know." The look of terror had not left the entomologist's eyes and Michael was turning red now from the effort of his screams. "What do I do, Booth?" As hurried as Booth felt, he couldn't leave Hodgins just yet.

"Here." Booth reached out for the squalling baby, taking the tiny form in his arms. He began to shush him, his body moving in a soft up down motion, Michael's cries taking on a warbling tone. "Do you have a swaddling cloth?"

"A what?" Booth might as well of asked for lunar landing gear, although he was pretty sure Jack would have been more familiar with that.

"A light blanket, really thin." Booth huffed.

"Oh, right, yeah." Hodgins sprinted to the diaper bag on the couch, coming back with a thin blanket covered in little yellow ducklings. "It uh…we can't use it."

"Why the hell not? Does it have some sort of sentimental value?" Booth was getting frustrated now. He needed to get out that door, needed to go grab a few things from his apartment, needed to get to Bones.

"It has spit up on it." Jack looked defeated.

"Jesus, Hodgins, a little spit up isn't going to kill the kid. Its from today right?"

"Well, yeah, but its…"

"Stop being paranoid. Don't be one of those parents. You'll drive yourself and the kid crazy. Lay it out on the counter in a triangle, pointy side towards me." Hodgins did as he was told. Booth laid the squirming reddened baby down on the cloth and began to swaddle him tightly in the cotton cloth.

"Isn't that too tight?" Hodgins voice was frantic.

"No. You want it to be secure. It's meant to mimic the confines in the womb." Booth mumbled.

"But…"

"Look, do you want my help or not? This isn't my first time at the rodeo, bug-man." Booth stopped swaddling and Michaels cry became piercing.

"No…no…please…finish." Hodgins hands went up in apology. Booth finished wrapping the baby, picked him up, his large hands supporting the little head peeping from the cotton, and handed him to Hodgins. "But…he's still crying."

"Go ahead and hold him close to your chest and rock back and forth, jostling him a bit. Start shushing him softly." Hodgins looked incredulous, but he followed the bigger man's directions, blind faith in his friend's parenting skills. It didn't work immediately, but after about 3 minutes Michaels wails turned to whimpers that mingled with Jack's soft hushed voice. By the 5th minute the baby was asleep.

"Oh my, God…how did you…what?" Jack's amazed gaze was not lost on Booth.

"I'm a single father, Hodgins. I had to do a lot of reading." Was his answer, and Jack nodded. Booth pointed to the stack of baby books on the coffee table. "Maybe you should try it."

"Right." Hodgins was still swaying lightly, not stopping for fear of igniting Michael's wrath again.

"Look man, I have to go." Booth grabbed up his coat and turned to the door.

"But…what about Lamb Vindoloo? The game…don't leave me like this, man. What if he starts up again?" Hodgins voice had taken on a desperate quality, and Booth couldn't help but chuckle.

"You'll be fine, Hodgins. Tired, freaked out, but fine. Thanks for everything." Jack gave an uncertain nod as Booth opened the door to leave.

"Thanks, Booth…thanks…" Booth barely registered as he closed the door behind him. He needed to get to the airport, needed to get to New Mexico. He just hoped that he would find her there, find her safe. 'A fall…' he thought, and a sick feeling pooled inside of him as he drove away.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

There was a light tapping on the door and Brennan straightened in her bed. She hated people seeing her in this prone position, hated looking as vulnerable as she actually was. It didn't help that it was Angela on the other side of the door, someone from the past she was trying to outrun.

"Bren?" Angela's questioning voice echoed in the hard, sterile room. She stiffened and hoped that the fear, the relief, the truth didn't show on her face.

"Yes, I'm here, Angela." 'Good,' she thought, 'I don't sound distressed.' Brennan took comfort in her façade.

"Oh God, Sweetie. Thank god you're alright!" Angela swooped into the room and quickly hugged her friend. Brennan couldn't help but melt a bit in her best friend's comforting embrace. "The last I heard you were unconscious. I…was so…oh, Bren. I was so worried."

For the first time Brennan felt shame. She had left her friend, no explanation, no excuses, no way of knowing how or where she was. She rarely thought about how her individual actions affected those around her, and in that moment she realized she had been wrong, selfish. "I'm alright, Angela, everything's fine."

When Angela finally pulled away, Brennan could see the tears in her friend's expressive brown eyes. She could also see how tired she looked, how worn. The last time she had seen Angela she had been glowing with nearly full pregnancy, excitement always underlying the discomfort of her changing body. Now Brennan saw her friend, smaller but still carrying baby weight, her eyes rimmed red with tears, ringed blue with exhaustion.

"You shouldn't have come, Angela…the baby." The word stuck in Brennan's throat, her own new situation playing in her mind. She didn't know how much the nurses had told her over the phone, if Angela knew her secret. Still, Angela's expression looked as if she had been struck.

"What do you mean I shouldn't have come, Bren? I get a call after nearly two months of wondering saying that your in a hospital in New Mexico, that you unconscious and unresponsive, and I shouldn't have come? What kind of person do you think I am? Of course I would come." Angela's usually sweet disposition hardened with hurt. Brennan looked away, the guilt of her actions weighing on her mind. She took only slight relief from the fact that she didn't mention her pregnancy. She didn't know, which meant that Brennan was still safe, but from what she wasn't quite sure.

"I didn't mean it that way, Angela. I'm sorry…" Brennan's voice cracked. Angela's gaze softened and her hand came to hold Brennan's, but she still didn't speak, didn't answer and Brennan knew that she needed to go on, that Angela deserved an explanation. "…I'm so sorry, Angela. I should not have left, not when you needed me to be there. I was supposed to be there for the birth, to greet your baby….baby….Oh, god, I don't even know if you had a boy or a girl. I don't even know if the baby is….is it alright, the eyes?"

"Michael. His name is Michael, and his perfect, he's beautiful." Brennan let out a sigh of relief. The irony of the situation had been an unspoken known, the child of an artist unable to see.

"I…I am so happy to hear that, Angela. I'm so happy he is okay." Brennan had let the tears slip down her cheeks, allowed herself to feel this moment. Before last night she had pitied Angela and Hodgins, the unknown they were venturing into, now their situation, what they had gone through struck real fear into her heart. Her mind raced to all that she had done in the last three months. The coffee, the exposure to harsh chemicals and bone dust, the spores that could have been lurking in the mass grave she had shimmied into so many times, the…'Oh, God,' she thought, as her list of faux pas extended. The alcohol, she had been drinking, not excessively, at least not in the last month or so, but she had drank to get drunk multiple times in the last three months. She was a genius, but a genius didn't need to know the possible complications that could arise from such a frequent intake of alcohol. A deep sob left her body, and she felt Angela's hand tighten on hers.

"Oh, Sweetie, stop. Don't kill yourself over this…we're all fine, the baby's fine. Having Michael was the happiest day of my life, Bren. It wouldn't have mattered if he was blind…it just wouldn't have mattered." Angela consoled, and Brennan felt a new rush of shame knowing that she wasn't only crying for Angela, she was crying for the child she carried inside her, and all the damage that her illogical spontaneity may have caused.

"Oh, Angela, I….I'm pr…"She started, then caught herself in the midst of her riotous emotions. She wasn't ready, not yet. She couldn't reveal herself even though deep down she knew she should, she couldn't open herself up like that. "I'm proud…proud that you are my friend. Grateful that's you've come."

"Oh, no need to be pleasant, Bren. I came for you, you're coming back with me." Angela said firmly, her eyes shouting her determination. Brennan felt fear clench at her insides, she couldn't go back, not now, not with all she had done, not with Booth waiting in D.C. for her.

"I can't, Angela…I won't…" Angela was about to speak, about to protest, but Brennan cut her off. "…not yet. I can't just yet. I need to recover…I have a job to finish here. Aurelio still needs me to catalog the remains…we need to figure out…" Brennan knew she was grasping at any excuse she could muster.

"Fuck the remains, Brennan. You need to come home. You belong with us. We need you." Angela's anger had been ignited, and Brennan knew that she wouldn't leave her willingly.

"I'm not coming back…not now…not with everything. I can't see…him…not with her." Brennan's face turned stony, her jaw set. She was ready to battle.

"Bren, Booth hasn't been with Hannah since the day you left. He's a mess without you, we all are." Angela's tone had switched to pleading. Brennan let the news sink in, her eyes searching her friend's for the truth. "He's falling apart."

"He just…he feels guilty, Angela. Shamed…" Brennan knew she was accurate, but it was only a partial truth. She couldn't see Booth, couldn't tell him that she was carrying a child he didn't want, a child she may have done irreparable harm to. She couldn't face his disappointment, or her own. "It's too late."

"It's not, Brennan, why can't you see that. It's not too late for you…for you to be happy." Angela was crying again, willing Brennan to listen, to understand.

"I'm…not going." She said quietly, her voice tremulous. "I hope you can understand that. Maybe…maybe someday….but not now."

It was silent between the two women for a moment, the moment stretching like a river of pain and regret between them. Softly, Angela finally spoke, "Why do you insist on hurting yourself, Brennan? Why do you cause yourself so much pain? You deserve more than this."

"No, Angela, I don't." Brennan's words were met with a sharp gasp. Angela gently let go of her friends hand. "You need to get back to D.C., Angela. You need to get back to Michael, to your life."

"Without you." It was a statement, an irrefutable fact that spewed bitterly from Angela's tongue.

"Yes, without me. Tell everyone I'm fine, that I'm happy here." Brennan's cold steel walls slid into place.

"Lie to them, you mean."

"Yes," She hated this conversation, the pain of it. She wanted it to be over and done with. "Lie to them."

"I love you, Brennan. You are my best friend, my sister." Angela said quietly. "You think the only person you are punishing is yourself, maybe Booth, too. But you hurt all of us; you cut us deeper than you know. I'll do this for you, I'll lie like you've asked, but don't think for a second that I agree, that I think you're in the right." Angela's voice was hard, unforgiving.

"Angela…"

"I'll lie, but know that this is stupid and selfish. You may be a genius, Bren, but you are so god damned stupid." Angela stared hard at her friend, no words passing between them because there were none that could make this moment better. Angela leaned down and gently kissed Brennan's forehead, "Goodbye."

Brennan watched as her best friend, her sister, left the room. The anger, frustration, pain of their conversation still lingered in the air and Brennan felt as if it would all suffocate her. She didn't know what was right anymore, didn't know if she was confusing logic with fear, so she wept.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note: **Well, what did you think? Please R&R and tell me your thoughts, you keep this story alive!


	9. Chapter 9: Aotearoa by Minuit

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **I hope all of you Americans had a wonderful Turkey Day…and all of you other wonderful nationalities, hope the weekend has left you well rested! Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews, they inspire me to no end and push me to stay up till 1am with a term paper looming in the distance (due tomorrow, yikes!) writing this whole chapter in a night! I wanted to get back to all of you amazing reviewers this week, but the holidays (which always involve extensive travel and mingling with in-laws!) have led me to make the choice between responding to reviews or writing this chapter.

A very quick and indiscriminant shout out to newer reviewers: **greysanatomyintern, Monica1122, tartantrace, mickeydavis123, MJRojas28, Jenny1701, nana25,** **the dud pistachio, BlueMoonFan, Gabsmum, Phoenix Rysing, goalkeeper96, mariabones, and BnB447.**

Thanks a million to all those of you who are constant sources of inspiration! **Michele, Linda, IHEARTSEELEYJBOOTH, Covalent Bond, Bleed Like Me, Excellentdriver, sweetmaj010, Rainbowong, manue, biba79, Casket4mytears, jmbatt, jsboneslover, Dyna63, Stefmarie06, drjamband, temperancedeschanel, yatobu, boothiebabe, bblover228, jneakins, Rangers043276, mrsvartan07, EverythingEventually, penandra, **and **SammieAtHome**!

Finally, to all the wonderful guests who leave me reviews and to those who have favorite or followed the story: THANK YOU! If I have missed anyone, I am so very sorry, it is late and I am starting to nod off! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Chapter 9: Aotearoa**

(Song featured in in S6:E12 The Sin in the Sisterhood)

And if the past's a distant land

Maybe there is no rhyme or reason

And if we salvage what we can:

You and me

And yes, it's true we're very young,

And we have sticks and stones and bruises,

Can we do what has been undone?

Is this the way destiny chooses?

You and me, you and me

You and me.. you and me

You and me, you and me

You and me, you and me

You and me..

We are a New Zealand

And yes, it's true we're very young

And we have sticks and stones and bruises,

Can we undo what has been done?

You and me

We are a New Zealand

A New Zealand, a New Zealand

You and me, you and me

You and me… you and me

You and me, you and me

And if the past's a distant land

Maybe there is no rhyme or reason

And if we salvage what we can

You and me

We are a New Zealand

It's you and I, I, I, I, I

It's you and I, I, I, I, I

It's you and I, I, I, I, I

It's you and I, I, I, I, I

(You and me) It's you and I, I, I, I, I

(We are) It's you and I, I, I, I, I

(New Zealand) It's you and I, I, I, I, I

It's you and I, I, I, I, I

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

It was 2:30pm, but it seemed like midnight. Tempe had been back at the ranch for exactly twenty minutes and had yet to sit down. Aurelio watched as she made tea, her foot nervously tapping as she stood next to the stove waiting for the water to boil. This of course was after she had rushed into the bathroom to remove the bandage above her right eyebrow, inspect the garish bruise that lie there, wash her face, change into sweats, comb her hair, and generally fuss around the rest of the house. She had just come home from the hospital and she had already started the same cycle over again and he couldn't stand to see her pushing herself further than she already had.

"Tempe, please. You need to sit down, you need to relax." Aurelio was behind her, a warm had resting on her shoulder, a gesture of reassurance that was met with the immediate tensing of her already tense muscles. It was as if she had forgotten he had been there at all, as if the sound of another human being's voice was as foreign to her as the thought of rest. Still, he pushed on, needed to get her to calm down. "Sit. Rest. I'll get the tea."

He pulled her gently away from the stove and led her to the couch, surprised at the lack of resistance he was getting. She gingerly sat down on the plush cushions, her beautiful features furrowing as she leaned back. "I'll get you some ice for your back, too."

"Aurelio, please, you don't have to…" She began, her actions may not have suggested it, but her voice sounded with fatigue.

"Tempe, its no trouble. Plus, you were hurt at my site. I've got to butter you up so you don't sue me?" He tried for a playful smile, but confused grey-blue ones only met his black eyes.

"I don't understand what you mean? Butter?" She settled back into the couch and moved past apparently confusing idiom onto a more pressing matter. "Aurelio, of course I won't be taking any legal action against you or the Blackwater Draw Foundation. My healthcare is more than adequate and no injury has occurred that will not entirely heal within a matter of weeks."

"I figured as much, Tempe. I was just trying to lighten the mood, you seem to be…preoccupied." He said carefully as he made his way back to the stove where the teakettle had begun to sputter its shrill song. He retrieved two mugs from the cupboard and placed two chamomile packed tea balls inside the deep indigo ceramic.

"I've had a…shock…I mean…" She accepted the cup gingerly. "…today has not been easy."

"I suppose not. Still, you were given a clean bill of health, but for the bumps and bruises, your back home. You even had a friend come to visit, that must have been great…" Aurelio, always the optimist, began to trail off as he noticed Temperance's gaze shift away and become blurry with tears. He had known this woman for well over a decade and had never seen her cry. She had shared many things with him—her hopes, her dreams, even some of the parts of her past that would have broken most people—but he had never seen her cry. He was not a fool; he knew this went beyond exhaustion, beyond the fear of the fall. "Tempe, what's wrong? What has happened?"

"I…seeing Angela was difficult. She…wanted me to return to D.C." Aurelio tensed at those words. He knew that she was meant for greater things than the small archeological operation he was running, but the thought of her leaving tore at him.

"I see. What…what did you tell her?"

"I told her I wouldn't…I couldn't. I have work here. We are so close to figuring out the meaning of the site, it could be big…it means quite a bit to you." He knew his reasons for wanting her to stay were selfish ones, both professional and emotional, but above all else he wanted her to be happy, content. He knew that she was working herself to death here, and as much as he wanted to be the reason for her happiness, he couldn't be the reason for her demise.

"Maybe…maybe she's right, Tempe. I want you to stay, of course, I love having your expertise out in the field and…having you…here…it's been amazing. I just…" He took a deep breath, wondering why the hell he would be telling her to do the one thing he didn't want her to. "…I just don't think you're happy. You've always been a hard worker, and I certainly benefit from your example, but you have been manic, Tempe. You've been spinning like a top and I feel like it was only a matter of time before you lost your momentum. I'm…I'm just glad that you weren't hurt too severely."

There was silence, a deep silence that Aurelio dreaded more than any sort of indignant denial Temperance could have heaped on him. He sat with her then, knowing that the silence was her choice, her right, just as it was her choice to continue this conversation or throw him out. He knew Tempe well enough to know that she did not take kindly to unwanted advice; he learned that the hard way years ago, when she had chosen to date their professor. But this wasn't about Michael Stiers, about young misguided love, this was about something more painful, he just didn't know what.

"I can't go back, Aurelio. Not now." She said so quietly he was barely able to hear her.

"Tempe, what could possibly be so awful that you couldn't go back? I spoke with Angela. She seemed genuinely concerned for you. It sounds like many people are. Why can't you go back with Angela? It isn't logical." He pulled out the big guns; logic always appealed to Tempe. He still didn't know why he was doing this, why he was pushing her away.

"I can't…she's already gone. I can't because…I can't face…I'm…"She let out a soft whimper, as if her words were causing her physical pain. He wrapped his arms gently around her shawl-shrouded shoulders, pulling her close to his chest. She buried herself in his arms, his chest, and Aurelio simultaneously thanked the gods for the closeness and cursed them for the pain she was in. "I'm pregnant."

He forced himself not to tense, not to show the painful shock and awe his mind was reeling from. "What? How…how long?"

"Almost three months." Her voice was muffled in his shirt and he could feel the dampness of her tears through the thin material.

"Three months? Jesus, Tempe, you were going down in those caves. Who knows what could have been down there. Not to mention all of the nights out with the team." He tried to conceal the chastisement from his voice, tried not to admonish.

"I didn't know, Aurelio, I didn't know." Her head shook back and forth against him, and all thoughts left him but pity as he realized her lapses in judgment hadn't been intentional. How could it have been, this was Temperance Brennan.

"Oh god, Tempe. I'm…I'm assuming this wasn't exactly planned." He felt like an idiot, of course it wasn't, but what does one say as they hold the crying woman they love, the woman who was pregnant with another man's child?

"No, not at all…once…I had thought about it once, with him, but not now…" She pulled herself from him then wiping the tears from her eyes, dabbing her nose with the hem of her wrap.

"Why not now? What has changed?" He probed.

"He is…was…with someone. It was illogical to be with him in the first place, and…and I'm ashamed." She cleared her throat as if trying to convince herself of the statement she had just made, the statement that had just broke his heart. He could tell now, could tell that she loved him, whoever this bastard was.

"Still, he should man up, take responsibility. He took part in the indiscretion to, Tempe, you can't place this all on yourself." He was angry now and he knew it showed in his voice. Angry at this man, angry at the situation he had placed her in, angry at him for denying this amazing woman's love, angry at the world for bringing her to his arms too late.

"No. No he is not a part of this, can't be. I can't…I can't come to him knowing what I've done to this child, knowing all of the danger I have put it in. He…" She began choking on her words as fresh tears sprang into her watered glass eyes. "…he's a good man, he would do the right thing, but I don't…I don't want that. I don't want him to know what I have done, the wrongs I can place on myself and myself alone. I don't ever want him to know that I failed him in this, something he takes so…he takes this so seriously, as he should. I can't have ruined this along with his relationship along with everything else I have trampled on his life."

"Tempe, I don't think he would see it that way." Aurelio consoled.

"He would…and if he didn't, I would be able to live with myself…" She trailed off, her gaze fixed on the warm mug in her hand, as if she were trying to concentrate all of her emotions into the pottery cradled between her soft digits. "I just…I need time…time to sort this out…to decide, to make this right. Do you understand, Aurelio? Please say that you understand."

Aurelio noted the tinge of desperation in her voice and hated seeing her so distraught, so broken. If he couldn't be the man she wanted, he would be the friend she needed. "Of course, Tempe. Of course. Stay here. Rest. Think. I'll be here for you, now until forever."

She smiled softly then, the first real smile he had seen from her the entire time she had been there, the first glimpse of the Temperance Brennan he knew and loved. In that moment he could promise her anything, everything, just to see her smile like that. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, careful not to brush against the angry purple protrusion gracing her lovely brow.

"Thank you, Aurelio. I can't thank you enough." She sighed.

"Don't thank me, Tempe, just heal. I'll be here to help, but it has to come from you. You need to be strong now, not just for yourself…for the baby." She nodded then, as if she were allowing his words of comfort to soak into the atmosphere around them.

The moment was broken when a loud rapping sounded at the front door, followed by the incessant ringing of the doorbell. Confusion and annoyance played across Aurelio's face as he stood from the couch. "Stay here, rest. I'll get it."

Temperance nodded and took a tentative sip from her meg as she leaned back into the sofa. For a moment as he made his way to the door, Aurelio imagined this scene in a different light, from the view of a man answering the door as his pregnant wife relaxed on the couch. He took a moment to relish in it, but only a moment as the knocking sounded out louder and more rapid then before. Swinging the door open he was greeted by a man wearing jeans, a t-shirt, aviator sunglasses, and an inhospitable expression.

"Yes? Who are you?" Aurelio asked, his patience wearing thin as he soaked in the hostility emanating from the man before him.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. Who the hell are you?"

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

He had been delayed much longer than he had expected. You would think an FBI agent would have no problem boarding a plane, but apparently companies were now insisting upon warrants and reason for boarding. 'Official business' didn't seem to cut it anymore. It had taken him nearly four hours to even get placed on an outbound flight to New Mexico, as not many flights seemed to make there way to that area of the country. He was finally placed on a flight out at about 6am, after waiting around the airport for the entire night and being stuck on the tarmac for nearly two and half hours. He had been a little more than peeved knowing he had arrived only fifteen minutes after the last flight for the night had taken off, one he was sure Angela was on.

The flight had taken him to Albuquerque and he had needed to rent a car for the three-hour drive to Portales. He was running on little sleep and even less patience so he was happy to know when he arrived and Roosevelt General Hospital around 2pm that where his title and badge hadn't worked at the Washington National Airport it had worked in the small town hospital. When the staff had refused to tell him if Bones had even been admitted he'd been able to get them to talk after throwing his FBI weight around. In truth, he hated using his position for personal matters, but there was a limit to his professionalism, and anything concerning Bones had always been good reason to go against protocol in his book. Still, no amount of finesse could negate the fact that she wasn't there, at least not anymore. She had been discharged almost thirty minutes earlier, again missing his chance by a few measly minutes. After getting the her address from a wary looking nurse by the name of Irene, he had started the forty-five minute trek to a small ranch on the outskirts of town, deep in the vast expanse of the desert.

Exhausted and noticeably irritable, he took a minute to calm down as he parked his rental in the driveway. He needed to gather himself, to focus on the words that needed to be said before he came barging in on her. He pulled down the visor and stared back at himself in the tiny mirror there. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks were gaunt and he knew now that he hadn't been taking care of himself. He never really allowed himself to assess what the past few months had done to him physically. Sleepless nights, fear of Broadsky, fear of his own wandering mind, the not knowing that came with Bones' disappearance, the pain of missing her more than anything he could ever remember. He saw now what everyone else had known for so long, he was a mess, broken.

"You look like shit, Seeley." He chastised the image in front of him then rubbed his eyes vigorously. Glancing back into the reflection, he locked eyes with himself. "You look like shit, but you got to talk to her. You got to say the right things. What are the right things?"

His mind rolled through the options. He couldn't just come out and say, 'I love you.' Not to Bones. She'd run, just like she always had, just like she did. 'I can't live without you' was ruled out too, no matter the truth behind it.

"What are the right words?" He asked his mimic. "We need you…I need you. Hannah is gone, like she was never there at all. All that's left is you, you're the hole in my heart, the missing piece."

He snorted. Bones hated metaphor, so why would she want it now? "You just need to man up, Seeley. You'll know what to say when you see her. You just need to see her." He nodded at his reflection; taking what little encouragement he could from the image in the mirror nodding back at him. He caught himself then and rolled his eyes, 'You really need to stop talking to yourself.' With one last glance at his fatigued features, he grabbed his sunglasses. Besides protecting him from the brutal southwestern sun, he hoped they'd hide the dark circles, at least upon first glance.

He couldn't help but note the quickness of his steps. The need to see her, his Bones, in the flesh, overwhelmed him a bit and he knew that he needed to play it cool. She didn't know he was coming, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't be there waiting for him with open arms. But he loved her, and he knew she loved him, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself.

As he came closer to the house he could hear muffled voices coming from inside. The open living room window framed a scene. Bones face was tired, bruised, and wet from tears. He immediately felt rage flow through him. What had happened? How had she gotten hurt and why hadn't he been there to prevent it? He halted in his tracks as his attention shifted from Bones' marred features to the large man holding her. His back was to Booth, but he could tell that the man was big, strong, and most likely taller than him by a few good inches. Booth saw red when the man leaned down and brushed his lips against her brow. This man was too close, too close to his Bones.

Every thought he had, every start to a conversation, every point he had to make about the reasons Bones should return home with him, flew from his mind and his body began to move of its own accord, independent from Booth. Within moments he found himself on the doorstep, his clenched fist pounding at the door as if he would break it from its hinges, his index finger turning white as he violently jabbed the doorbell. He couldn't seem to grasp onto his inner control, his rational mind.

The door swung open and Booth was greeted by a dark, good-looking man who was indeed several inches taller than himself. Still, it wouldn't have matter if the guy was ten feet taller, Booth knew size didn't matter. He unconsciously sized the man up, and while he was taller and powerfully built, Booth knew he could take him if he had to. He was brought out of his feral thoughts by the man's deep baritone voice.

"Yes? Who are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. Who the hell are you?" He growled, his dark eyes narrowing behind the tinted lenses of his aviators. Both men turned as they heard a loud crash from just inside the door, the distinct sound of glass breaking. Bones was standing by the couch, confusion and fear shining through her eyes, and Booth was immediately cooled. He couldn't stand to see her looking at him in that way, as if she feared him. The dark bruising around her face and under her eyes caused him to involuntarily flash to images of his frightened and battered mother, and a wave of nausea washed over him to know that the comparisons in both women's features was so great.

"Bones…" He started, just as the other man's voice rang out.

"Tempe…" Both men stopped then, their posture not easing in its readiness, but in check. The dark man looked back at Booth, his jaw set firmly, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm Dr. Aurelio Castaneda, Agent Booth. I take it you are here to see Temperance?"

"Uh…yeah…I…" He suddenly felt awkward. He cleared his throat. "I work with Bones. I'm here to speak with her."

"Now is not a good time, Agent Boo…" Aurelio began, and Booth could feel the anger rising in him once again. He struggled to keep it at bay.

"Its…its fine, Aurelio. I'm fine. Please, if you could just clean up the mess I've made here, I'd really appreciate it." Bones came forward slowly, wrapping the terracotta colored shawl on her shoulders tighter as she moved towards them. "I'll speak with Booth outside."

"Tempe, are you sure." Aurelio's hand came to rest on her shoulder and Booth didn't like it one bit. What he thought had been anger reared its ugly head as jealousy. He was jealous of this man, this unknown who somehow had been comforting Bones, his Bones, the woman he loved. It should have been him.

"Yes, Aurelio, its fine." She brushed past the large man, his hand falling from her, and Booth felt a smug sense of satisfaction at the bewildered look on Aurelio's face. He could chastise himself for being an ass later. Right now, he needed to talk to Bones. They stepped through the door, out into the front yard garden. It was silent for a beat between the two, neither knowing how to start the inevitable conversation. Booth choose to take the plunge.

"So, you've been in New Mexico this whole time?" His voice was soft.

"Most of it, yes. I've been working with Aurelio out at a dig in the Blackwater Draw Preserve. Paleo-Indian tribes, very interesting case that involves many different sets of re…" She began to babble and Booth knew she was avoiding what really needed to be said.

"I miss you, Bones." He said simply, quietly. She didn't reply, she just stared at him; her stormy blue eyes were red from crying, but revealed nothing else to him. He went on. "I miss you so much sometimes, it…it hurts, ya know?"

Bones eyes tore themselves away from his, and even though he felt as if he were losing ground, he felt he needed to trudge forward.

"You, that night, the night Vincent died…I meant everything I said, everything we did…I broke it off with Hannah the next day. I tried to find you but…"

"But I left." Her voice was quiet, but he could hear the stoniness of it. "I left, just like you did. You left, Booth, what did you expect me to do?"

"I expected to talk to you that day, expected to tell you how much…how much that night meant to me." His voice was pleading with her. He wanted her to see, to understand. "I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to wake you. I thought…I thought there was time, I thought you knew I wouldn't leave you, not after what we did."

"It was too much, Booth, too much." Her soft voice hung between them, and Booth feared her going further. "You…don't remember, but it happened before…it happened…"

"It happened the night I proposed to Hannah." Her eyes snapped to his, confusion written across her beautiful face, a face he could fall in love with over and again for the rest of his life. "I know…I mean…I didn't know, not until I…spoke with Hannah…but I knew all along, deep down, I'd known for months. I just…I just wasn't listening to the message I was sending myself."

"So you know now, know we were together more than the night of Vincent's death. You must know now why I left." Booth nodded, the pain of that realization had been haunting him for what seemed like forever.

"I screwed up, Bones, royally. I didn't want to hurt you…I want you, all of you. I need you, I'm a mess without you." He'd laid almost his whole hand down on the table; he needed to decide if he was all in. It took only a moment to make his choice. "I love you, Bones, more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I love everything about you, and I love the man you make me want to be."

The silence was painful as he waited for her reply. He was a gambler, but he hated to lose, especially when what he was gambling with was truly everything he cherished most.

"It's…it's too late, Booth." He felt as if his heart was pulled from his chest, the air torn from his lungs. He thought he had been prepared for this, for her rejection, but he now realized that he wasn't nearly prepared enough. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and he knew it was with regret. "I…we…can't go back, not now, not here. I…have…"

"What? What do you have here that is so important?" He moved forward then, pulling her into his arms, pressing her warm body to him. She tensed suddenly and let out a soft whimper, and for a moment he thought he had been too forceful. That wave of sick ran through him again as he gently released her, "Oh god, Bones, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…"

"No, its not you…my back. The fall bruised my back…it wasn't you." She reassured, her had grasping at his, holding his large hand in her own smaller, softer one. Even with the explanation, he still felt guilt and frustration. This was all going wrong, all of it. He came here to woo her, to tell her the truth, to bring her home. Instead his heart was breaking and he had hurt her.

"I'm just…I'm so sorry, Bones." He whispered. He felt her soft hand on his cheek as it slowly raised his bowed head so their eyes could meet. "I just want to start over, to make it right."

"We…I can't, Booth, not right now…maybe not ever. It…it hurts me to say this, but…" Booth looked deeply at her, waiting for her to continue. He saw her eyes well up with unshed tears as she shook away their contact. "But I can't right now. Right now, I need to be here…I have my reasons for staying, and I…promise…they are good reasons."

"Is it…you don't…" He couldn't quite grasp the words he wanted so desperately to own and he felt his anger rise up into his throat and tinge the words that had been resting there, waiting to come out. "You don't love me…I get it…you have better things to do, here."

"Booth." Her tone was a chastisement in itself and he couldn't stand it. Jealousy rolled through him like a deluge after a drought. His eyes flicked to the house, his anger settling there.

"Are you staying for him? For this Doctor so and so?" He spit the words out, letting them land between them like shards of broken glass. Bones eyes flit in the direction of the house, but she said nothing, neither confirming nor denying. "You're staying for this guy?"

"Its not what you think, Booth…I just can't leave, not now, not when we're so close…" Her words were weak and sounded like vague excuses to his ears.

"Not when you're so close? To what, Bones? Something more important than this, than us?" He ran an angry hand through his hair, ripping the sunglasses from his face. "I've been going out of my mind for months here, Bones, waiting for any word from you, any sign that you were okay…alive even. And all this time you've been playing house down here in New freakin' Mexico, with Mr. Last of the Mohicans in there."

He knew the words were harsh, too harsh, but he couldn't seem to control them as they slipped past his mouth and rolled off his tongue. He could see the hurt in Bones' features, the pain he was causing her, but he couldn't seem to put the breaks on his already frayed and fatigued emotions. He had expected many things when he had come to New Mexico, Bones with another man had not been one of them. The burning pain that she could be leaving him behind for another seared the very core of him, down to the center where only raw angry nerves resided.

"Booth, you may think what you wish," Her voice was icy and he knew that he had effectively ended this conversation moments earlier with his outburst. Bones steel walls had erected themselves once again, and he knew he would be unable to tear them down, not now. She continued, "but I have my reasons for staying, and these reasons will need to be good enough for you. I had no intention of hurting you, just as you had no intention of hurting me, but what's done is done. I won't be returning to D.C., not now. I…I care for you, for all of you, but I can't…I won't be going back anytime soon, not until I have answers. You will have to accept that."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was an enigma, a mystery to him and to everyone else. As he seethed with anger and jealousy, he couldn't help but love her, even when she was breaking his heart. He felt his bravado slide away, leaving only the truth in its place. With a sigh he took a step toward her, his hand gently cupping her soft cheek, and he could have sworn that she leaned into his touch.

"I guess I don't get to know your reasons. Maybe it is this guy, maybe its something else, but you need to know Temperance Brennan…" He pulled her close, slowly as to avoid hurting her tender back, "I love you, and I can't change that. You figure this out, then you come back to me."

He leaned forward then and pressed his rough lips against her soft satin ones, relishing the lingering taste of chamomile tea and something so Bones he could never really place his finger on it and probably never would. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to kiss him back, feared it, but all doubt left him as he felt her lips slowly yield under his and open to his searching tongue. He drank from her like a drowning man, sweeping into her mouth in a quick motion, pulling her even closer. He poured every ounce of himself, every conflicting emotion, every desperate hope into her then, willing her to feel what he felt. While she was not nearly as zealous as he, he could feel her respond to him, her fingers tighten on his shoulders, her body lean into his, her tongue brush gently against his own. If anything, it gave him hope.

He pulled slowly away, letting their breaths linger for just awhile longer before completely untangling himself from her. Her eyes were wide, her lips red and swollen. Even battered and bruised she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He swallowed deep and tore his eyes from her. Softly, he spoke. "You come back to me, Bones, when you're ready."

With that, he turned from her, possibly the single most painful thing he had ever done. He left her with a kiss, without doubt in his feelings toward her. He had accomplished the one thing he truly had set out to do, he had told her the truth about that night, about his feelings; he had set the record straight. He could only wait and hope that she felt the same way.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

She could still feel the burn of his lips on hers, and she was amazed that through everything, it still made her weak in the knees. As she watched him walk away from her, she felt a profound loss echo through her body. She had missed the feel of him, the taste, the smell. She missed him so much it was beyond reason, beyond rational thought, and seeing him only served to make her self imposed exile from him more difficult. She wanted nothing more than to grab her meager belongings and return with him, back to the life she knew and loved. Yet, those thoughts were made heavy with the leaden weight of reality. She couldn't go home, not now, not yet, maybe not ever. Despite the fact that he loved her, despite that she knew now that love was not only a fleeting chemical reaction in the brain, that it was something more, she still couldn't go. She felt anchored to this spot, anchored to the choices she had made.

He left thinking she had more self reflection to do, more exploring to do in the dark pits of the Blackwater Draw. He had no understanding of her true fears. Her hands slid slowly to her belly, a very faint rounding that had gone unnoticed now insisted upon its presence there. Her baby, Booth's baby, grow there inside her, despite the stress, the self-abuse, the odds. Her goal, above all else, was to keep this child, this perfect piece of she and Booth, safe. She wanted nothing more than to tell him, to share with him this small devastating miracle, but she couldn't, not yet…maybe not ever.

She felt as if she might cry again, but she couldn't. She felt too used up. Today had been nothing but heartbreak and tears and she was tired of it. Tired of feeling weak and vulnerable, tired of crying on the shoulders of those around her, tired of self-pity.

'Today,' She thought, 'is the start of a new day.' She gently caressed her abdomen and thought or Aurelio's words of comfort. She needed to be strong for this baby, and perhaps, someday, that strength would lead her back to Booth.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

**Author's Note:** So, ::looks out sheepishly from behind her computer:: not the great reunion chapter I'm sure you were all hoping for. I know that I said a few posts ago that this story would be ending right about now, but after some words of encouragement from my faithful reviewers it will be extended for at least 1-2 more chapters. This definitely won't be going into the teens, but we may just break double digits! Thank you all for your AMAZING reviews and all of those following the story. Please tell me what you think of this chapter, what you think of the story so far. We're getting close to that Boothie/Bonesie good ending, it's on the horizon, I promise!


	10. Chapter 10: Time Lapse Lifeline

**Title: **One Night to Speed Up Truth

**Author:** Dizzy

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** This story is set at the very end of "S6:E13 Daredevil in the Mold". What if Brennan and Booth had shared more than a drink the night Hannah refused his proposal. All chapters are based on songs taken from the _Bones _soundtrack. AU/Angst/Drama/Confusion/etc.

**Disclaimer:** If wishes were horses, beggars would ride…but as they are not, I still own nothing. _Bones_ belongs to many people, like FOX and Hart Hanson, but not me.

**Author's Note: **Life, as you all know, doesn't care if you want down time to write. Between finals in the classes I teach, as well as in the classes I am taking, a health scare, the holidays, and surgery/recovery…writing has taken a backseat. Now that I am on break, out of the holidays, and on the couch 24/7 recovering…I hope that I will be able to finish this up! I know where I want to go with it, but the words are having a difficult time making it to the page. I didn't really want to post this yet…I wanted a more hefty chapter, but I thought this might be better than nothing. Thank you to everyone still reading! The next chapter will offer more answers more Booth/Brennan time. Until then, enjoy this chunk!

**Chapter 10: Time Lapse Lifeline**

(Song featured in in S4:E23 The Beaver in the Otter)

I'm keeping up, keeping up with the time lapse lifeline

And they can run they can run from the font to the Last Rites

And we can hear we can hear the first beat to the flat line

I'm keeping up, keeping up with the time lapse lifeline

And once it's done

Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like that, was like that

And just like that, and just like that it's done

Back it up, back it up

Stop, fast-forward, rewind

And watch the sun, watch the moon taking turns in the same sky

And you were dead as the leaves, now you're new like the spring-time

Back it up, back it up

Stop, fast-forward, rewind

And once it's done

Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like that, was like that

And just like that, and just like that it's done

Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like that, was like that

And just like that, and just like that it's done

Still we stand with the help of a steady hand

Capture images of boy and man

Till it's done

And 7 years combined is just the flicker of a neon sign

Little negative of hopes refined

Till they're done, oh they're done

Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like, was like that

And just like that, and just like that it's done

Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like, was like that

And just like that, and just like that it's done

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Three months and three days. That's how long it had been since he had seen Bones, since he had known she was in New Mexico, doing god knows what. When Booth had gotten back from the trip Angela had been a little more than peeved.

'What the hell, Booth? Did you wiretap my phone or something? Check my credit cards? Pull some FBI voodoo? How the hell did you know I went to New Mexico? How did you find Brennan?' Her questions had come out like a barrage of machine gun fire, peppering Booth in a fine mist of guilty spatter. It turns out he never had to answer her questions. Before he could even say anything Angela had collapsed into a weeping heap on the couch in her office. 'I couldn't get her to come home. It didn't matter what I said, Booth, she just kept pushing me away. I feel like I've lost her.'

He had let her cry, affecting a stony silence that was to become his trademark in the following months. Since then the once tense atmosphere between them had dissipated and been replaced by a sense of shared frustration. While everyone missed Bones around the lab, only he and Angela truly felt the sting, and a strange bond of commiseration had since linked them together. Any questions about Bones, her whereabouts, and any other concerns were fielded between them with short terse answers that never revealed the truth of the situation; they had no clue how she was or when she was coming home.

It wasn't that he couldn't function without her. He was capable of the day-to-day routine, the unyielding monotony that comes with living a life without purpose. There were things that would always take precedence, Parker being one of them, but even his son had noticed Booth's lack of focus. Parker had been spending more and more time with Rebecca, and by association, her new boyfriend. He knew that he had to get himself together, if not for himself, for his son.

Parker was coming over tonight and Booth had made his favorite: grilled cheese with tomato soup. He had rented the newest soccer game, not that he knew anything about soccer, but he knew Parker would get a kick out of beating his old man repeatedly. He needed to get his house in order. If Bones wasn't coming back anytime soon, he knew that he needed to have something to hold onto, something that made life worth living. Parker was it; he just needed to remember that.

It was 5:00pm when he finally heard Rebecca's rapid knock on his front door. The grilled cheese was ready to go into the pan, the XBOX was hooked up, and Booth was showered and clean-shaven. He whipped the door open and was surprised to not see the blond head of his ex-lover, but the smiling face of a large man with a crew cut, a man whose arm was draped over the shoulder of his son.

"Dad!" Parker yelled, his bright young smile showing no guile as he wrapped his arms around Booth's waist.

"Hey, Buddy." He ruffled the boy's curls, less pronounced since Parker had entered young-adulthood. Booth's eyes never left the tall man on the other side of the doorway. "I'm Seeley, you must be…" For the life of him he couldn't remember the guy's name, one of the many seemingly inconsequential facts that kept slipping his mind over the past few months.

"Greg Laslow, nice to finally meet you." He extended his had and Booth begrudgingly shook it. It wasn't that he didn't like him, he didn't know enough about him to make a judgment, but the way this man had been so familiar with Parker, his son, didn't sit well in the pit of Booth's stomach.

"Yeah….good to meet you. Where's Rebecca?" He asked as Parker pushed past him into the recesses of the apartment.

"Oh, she's at yoga. Parker and I were so engrossed in FIFA Soccer 2010, we barely heard her leave! This kid is as good on the couch as he is on the field." Greg chuckled as Booth inwardly cringed. So, the new boyfriend had beaten him to the punch.

"Yeah, he's pretty amazing. I'm going to go get dinner ready. Grilled cheese, Parker's favorite."

"I know. The kid can't get enough of them. Hey, try putting a slice of tomato in there. He loves it an it's a great way to sneak in some veggies." Greg raised a hand in a parting gesture. "Have a good time."

"Yeah, thanks." Now Booth was pissed. Who was this guy to be playing video games with Parker and making him grilled cheese…with tomato. That was his job. Booth sighed and rubbed his eyes as he closed the door. As he looked at parker sitting at the kitchen table going through his suitcase, Booth couldn't help but acknowledge that this guy, this Greg, was doing right by his son. He hadn't been the most attentive father as of late, his mind always wandering, only hearing half of what his son was saying most of the time. It had to change; he knew he could be replaced. He had promised long ago that he would never be the father his was, but just because he didn't hit Parker didn't mean his distance wasn't having an effect on the boy. He had to do better, be better.

"Hey, kiddo," He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, "what do you say to some grilled cheese?"

"Sounds good, dad." He said distractedly as he rifled through his duffle bag, his eyes lighting up as he found purchase. "I got something that's gonna blow your mind!"

"Really? What is it?" Booth had heated up the skillet and positioned the grilled cheese in it.

"Take a look." Parker seemed excited, but also a little nervous, and Booth eyed him warily as the boy passed him a pamphlet, Euro Football Association emblazoned on the front. His hand clenched the glossy paper, dread clenching hard in his stomach. "I…uh...I've been doin' real good on my team, Dad. You didn't see last week, but I scored three goals."

"Yeah, I heard. I'm sorry about that, buddy, there was a…a case. You know how it is." Booth felt guilt ripple through him at the slightly disappointed tone in his son's voice.

"I know, dad, but…but my coach…he thinks I'm doing really good and he chose me…and Dylan, Henry, Jaden, and Alfredo…they're putting together a team to go to this." He motioned to the pamphlet in Booth's hands. The hopeful sound of his voice melted Booth's heart as he began to examine the brochure.

"Euro Football Association….wow, Parker. This…this is really big. Are they going to have a clinic out here or something?" Booth was trying to make his voice sound encouraging, but he knew his assertion wasn't a correct one.

"Umm…no, we'd be going there…to Europe. I mean, we'd get to go to England, Ireland, Spain, and some…some other places I can't remember…but we'd get to go there and play, like on a real team and everything." Parker shifted uncomfortably and Booth knew that the boy was dreading the answer to his question; could he go?

"Actually going over seas? That's…uh…that's a big trip. So, it would take the whole summer?" Booth was leaning against the counter top now, flipping through the glorified picture book.

"Well, not exactly. See, the season starts sooner than that. We would be leaving in about three weeks. And we'd be there for about…" Parker counted it out on his fingers, his big brown eyes raised to the ceiling. "…about five months."

"No way, Parks. What about school." Booth hated to tell the kid no, but he couldn't miss the rest of the school year, there were still two months left.

"That's what's really cool, dad…we'd have a tutor and everything. We go to class then we play soccer. They were telling us about it and the tutors use all sorts of soccer examples to teach math, ya know, measuring the field and the angle of the ball and all that stuff. And we learn how to write sports articles in Language Arts. It sounds really cool. Coach's son, Cole, he went a few years ago and now he's in college and stuff." Great, the kid got him. How is he supposed to just come out and say that Parker can't go because his father is a selfish bastard? He couldn't imagine not seeing Parker for five months. He'd done that once in his son's life when he ran off to Afghanistan, and he swore he's never be that far from Parker again. But this time it wasn't him leaving, it was his son wanted to leave him.

"Look, Parker, this sounds pretty expensive and I don't know if…"

"Greg said he'd pay for it, for everything. He's cool like that, Dad. You wouldn't have to worry about anything." Booth's blood boiled. Who the hell was this guy, anyway?

"Absolutely not. If you go…and that is a big if…your mother and I would split it right down the middle. Greg isn't your father, I am." Booth snapped, then immediately regretted the harshness of his words when he saw Parker's eyes go wide. He regrouped and approached it differently. "I'm sorry, Parker. I just meant that I'll take care of it, but only after I talk to your mom. I'm…I'm not going to make any decisions right now, okay? Let me think about it."

"Ok, Dad, I understand." And Booth could tell his son did understand, but it didn't mean he was happy with his father's answer. Booth held the pamphlet out to Parker, but the boy waved it away. "No, you hold on to it. I got one at home, that's for you."

"Okay, I'll look at it. Alright, Parks?" Parker nodded. Booth reached for the boy and wrapped him in a bear hug, burying his face in the soft curls at the top of his head. He knew his son was growing up. He wasn't the little boy he had been what seemed only months ago. He was growing up too fast for Booth's liking and he longed for the days when Parker had been little and Booth could do no wrong in his eyes. "Hey, buddy, I am so proud of you, you know that? You're amazing, kid."

Parker smiled up at Booth from the circle of his arms, a smile that always made Booth melt right into the floor, and he knew then he was going to say yes. He couldn't deny his son this experience because he was a wreck. He was going to go along with it, even if the thought of it broke his heart. He'd seemed to be doing that a lot lately. The moment was broken, however, when the smoke alarm began blaring, shocking them both out of their conversation. Booth ran over to the stove where the pan was smoking, one side of the grilled cheese burnt beyond recognition and edibility.

"Aw shit." Booth mumbled, then caught himself. "I mean, darn." Parker rolled his eyes and went to the fridge to get out cheese and butter. "Guess we're going for round two here."

"Yeah, its fine, dad. We all make mistakes!" Parker smiled as he placed the condiments on the counter. 'From the mouths of babes,' Booth thought as he ruminated on his son's words. He felt like all he did these days was make mistakes. He began to assemble the sandwiches. His hands paused in the process, and he looked up at the boy watching him from the bar stool on the other side of the counter.

"Do you…uh…you want tomato on this?" He asked the boy. Parker scrunched up his nose.

"Ehhh…no. I like the way you make 'em." Parker leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, despite the fact there was no one in the apartment to over hear him. "I only eat the tomato because Greg likes it."

Booth let out a hearty laugh, real joy creeping into his voice. He shook his head back and forth. "That's my boy!" He ruffled Parkers hair and began to place the new sandwiches in a new pan. Some things never changed, and Booth took comfort in that.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

Brennan felt as if she were as big as a house. She didn't like hyperbole, it only exaggerated the reality of facts and made a less accurate summation of events, but as she adjusted herself again on the metal fold out chair for what seemed like the millionth time, she finally understood the use of embellishment. The oddest part being that she was not "showing" very much at all. At seven months pregnant, Brennan had the slightest bulge around her midsection, easily concealed by a flowing shirt or dress. The doctor had said that this was normal, that many women show late, or barely at all, and that it was common to feel much larger than one actually was. Feeling as big as a house, elephant, cruise ship, etc. all still applied.

At first Aurelio had tried to keep her away from the site, insisting that she should rest, but the thought of sequestering herself from the world for months seemed like a death sentence. On his insistence she had seen the doctor to confirm that she could return to work, and after the okay to do what amounted to desk work, he begrudgingly agreed to let her come back. She was still only allowed to handle the bones after they had been cleaned or while wearing a mask, and while a part of her wanted to rebel against the fettering of what seemed like overly precautious procedure, the logical part of her acknowledged it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sometimes her condition seemed surreal, as if she were growing bigger without cause, as if the baby were an apparition. But lately she had felt the sure and defiant kicks inside and knew that their was life inside her, despite all odds, their child was growing, strong and sure. There were times during her doctor's visits where she saw the blurry little hands, feet, arms, legs, body, head of her child and imagined it was nothing more than a movie, that it couldn't be real, then she would here the echoing flutter of her heartbeat and she would feel a rush of protective love overcome her.

Her, a little girl. So far the ultrasounds and amniocentesis had revealed no anomalies; no deformities, no developmental problems, no evident conditions, and she thanked…something…every time she left the offices with a clean bill of health for her and her daughter. Still, the doctor's had warned her that they wouldn't know anything for sure until the baby was born, until she had made her way into the world. After all of the reading Brennan had done, she knew it wasn't as simple as a test, or even a seemingly healthy baby. The effect of fetal alcohol syndrome could be subtle, unnoticed until years later, and it was this knowledge that kept her on edge. Despite the healthy fetus she carried, she would know nothing until weeks, months, and years after she was born.

As Brennan leaned over the fold out table, her long auburn hair fell into her eyes. Pushing it away she looked closer at the pitting on a mandible, another indicator of post mortem trauma. Still, having only looked at this shattered skull for about five minutes one thing was clear. This bone was different. It didn't have the soft yellowing patina common in the other more ancient bones. As she weighed it in her hands, studied its grooves, she knew the one thing she didn't want to admit. This skull wasn't ancient by any means. It was fresh by comparison, new, and it was female. This was no ancient native of the land. No, it was only a mere six to eight years old, and furthermore, it was from a Caucasian woman, vastly inconsistent, impossible to categorize with the rest.

She sighed heavily. She thought if anything she had escaped modern death, at least for the time being. She looked over at the rest of the skeleton, its cream colored bones beckoning her to solve the mystery of this woman's death, the reason for her strange burial. Who was she, what was she doing there in that forsaken pit among the bones of generations?

"How goes it?" Aurelio interrupted her thoughts as he came up behind her, resting his warm, dust caked palm on her shoulder. Brennan turned slightly, regretting the fact that she would have to share this news with him. The last thing the dig needed was the police swarming the dig; halting progress.

"Unfortunately." She said slowly.

"That can't be good. What's wrong? Are you okay…the baby?" Aurelio's back immediately straightened, his arms crossed over his chest, the look in his eyes shone with concern. Brennan rolled her eyes, he was always worried about the baby, as if it were his personal job to protect it, even from Brennan herself if need be. He constantly asked her about what she had eaten that day, asked her to rest, to go home. It was beginning to grate on her nerves. Still, it was nice, even when annoying, to have someone who cared.

"Its not that. It's this set of bones you brought me. There is an anomaly when compared to the rest of the remains found here." Aurelio's shoulders relaxed and he casually glanced at the examination table.

"So, what's the deal? Did we finally find someone who died in the fall?" He squinted at the magnified image of mandible, then finding it hopeless to comprehend, he turned away.

"No. She was dead prior to the fall. Worse…" Brennan eyed Aurelio, noting his perplexity in his features. "She's too new. This woman died roughly six to eight years ago, well out of the timeline for the rest of the remains."

"What?" She couldn't tell if Aurelio was confused or just hadn't heard her.

"The bones are too new, those of a woman who died only…"

"I get that, Tempe, I just mean…how? How did she get down there? Where did she come from?" Aurelio was up and pacing. Brennan was about to ask him to calm down when she realized something staggering. Aurelio wasn't used to death. Sure, he looked at the bones and artifacts of the dead, but those were all ancient, from a different time, different place. This, fresh death, was something he had yet to encounter, yet to accept. A small part of her longed for that innocence again, for a time when she would have found this discovery shocking, to not be immune to the horrors of modern society. At the same time she pitied him, to see his dreams, his dig, tainted by the acts of contemporary man.

"There is no way to tell as of right now. We need to…we need to call the authorities. This needs to be investigated." She moved herself up from the stiff metal chair and made her way to his now turned back. "I'm sorry, Aurelio."

"No…don't be…its not as if you planned this." He sighed and leaned against one of the tent supports. "Jesus, I just didn't think…this is so weird."

"Its not uncommon. A remote location used as a body dump for some…"

"I get it, Tempe, I just meant I'm not used to it. Not like you." Brennan recoiled a bit, her hand resting on her barely there belly. She wanted to be angry at his categorization of her response, but she knew he was right, she was used to this. "Sorry, I just…I'm going to go call the cops. Thank you for the information."

Brennan nodded, incapable of words. She had never seen Aurelio so withdrawn, so…disappointed. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to put his life's work on hiatus. Still, what was done was done, and now it was time to call in the authorities. She sighed as Aurelio walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Turning back to the bones of the young woman on the table, Brennan set about trying to determine cause of death.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

"They've been here for three days. When are they leaving?" Aurelio's voice was low, impatient. The sheriff had arrived three days earlier, had his team section off the pit, the tools, pretty mush everything. Aurelio and Brennan had only been able to sit on the sidelines and watched as police officers milled about ineffectually, trying to look busier than they actually were.

"This investigation would go much faster if they would allow me to examine the bones more thoroughly. I still don't understand, they should know who I am." Brennan had been annoyed beyond measure when the sheriff notified her that the FBI had placed her on a leave of absence as well, and that she was not allowed to work on the case solo. Still, she couldn't help but watch from afar, gathering snippets of information passed between cops.

Here on the third day, they really hadn't found out much else. Not much of anything was happening; they were just standing, just staring, just drinking coffee. This was ridiculous.

"Excuse me, sheriff. Are all f you just taking an extended break? We would like to get back to our work, perhaps you should start yours." Brennan knew she sounded catty, knew that it wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but she couldn't seem to contain herself, letting the words slip through her lips faster then she could censor them.

"Well, Dr. Brennan…not that its any of your concern, but we were told to wait." Sheriff Holbrook was a slight man, his craggy face aged by the sun, permanently ruddy. He seemed stolid, but the deep wrinkles in the corners of his eyes gave him away. This was a man who knew how to laugh, to enjoy himself, but one would never know it from his work demeanor. Brennan knew he was a good man, a man who thought before he spoke. Still this did not keep Brennan from snapping at the man.

"Wait? Wait for what? You're wasting time." She huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a task that seemed more difficult now that she was late into her pregnancy.

"The FBI told us to wait, that's what we're gonna do, Dr. Brennan, wait." Still calm and even despite her badgering, Sheriff Holbrook leaned against the pulley mechanism and glanced down at the pit in front of them.

"The FBI? Great. I've heard about this before, once the FBI is involved we'll never get back into this dig." Aurelio sighed loudly, new exhaustion and frustration evident in his voice.

Brennan for her part hadn't moved since she had heard the letters FBI. Irrational fear gripped at her belly, she seated herself in one of the vacant metal folding chairs, hand lightly covering her "O" shocked mouth. Her mind was racing; 'What if he comes? Why would they send him, I'm not there to round out the team anymore? What if he comes anyway? He wasn't coming; he doesn't have the jurisdiction. The FBI has New Mexico agents, why would they send a DC agent for a New Mexico job, highly improbably?' She rolled through contradiction after contradiction, effectively scaring and comforting herself simultaneously.

"I don't think you have to worry too much, Dr. Castaneda. I hear their sending us a specialist, someone used to this sort of faceless, nameless, kinda deal." Sheriff Holbrook reassured as he cleaned his sunglasses with his shirt.

"I would hope so," Aurelio gave a terse nod of approval, while Brennan slumped further down in the chair.

'There are plenty of agents who specialize in this sort of thing.' She lied to herself, knowing that not many had as much experience as Booth. She needed to get out of there, needed to move, to think. She got up as quickly as she could, smoothed her dress, and began to walk purposefully towards her truck.

"Where are you going, Temperance?" Aurelio yelled after her. Brennan turned to face Aurelio, still walking quickly away.

"Home. Just going home for a bit. There isn't much going on here. Call me if anything changes or if you need help." No sooner had she said this did she slam into something firm, solid. Confused and breathless she focused on what she had walked into, a light gasp leaving her as everything came together.

"I think I'll need your help, Bones." Booth whispered quietly, his large hands gripping her shoulders protectively after their collision.

"No…" the soft word slipped from her lips.

*~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~B&B~*

***Author's Note: **Well, please tell me what you think! Reviews are what inspire, and I need it...I am having a tough time with writers block, seeing the story but not knowing how to get it written. Thanks for reading!


	11. Author's Note

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**To all my wonderful readers, I am so sorry I haven't updated. I can promise you that I will finish this story, but too many things have come up in my life at the moment. **

**Work and School is very time consuming as many of you know, but now I have the added joy/responsibility of planning my wedding! My fiancé and I are planning a big party in a shot amount of time (July 19th, 2013!). Any of you who have planned weddings know that this can be very time consuming ESPECIALLY when you are a genius like me who decides that we are going to do it in less that 6 months! That, combined with finishing my Masters Degree leaves me little time for the pleasures of writing.**

**I promise that I will finish this story. I also promise that it won't be years from now! I just need sometime to organize my life, and future life. I truly hope you all understand. I am so sorry for leaving you hanging, I just don't have the energy or the brain power at the moment to divide myself between the things I want to do and the things I must. **

**Thank you everyone, I will update as soon as I can.**

~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~B~


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